Impossible to Refuse
by Trinity Everett
Summary: When Rick Castle agrees to a meeting with the head of one of New York's more efficient crime families, he has no idea what he's getting into, or how it's going to change his life. A 2016 Castle Hiatus Mini-Ficathon story. Meeting AU. Job AU. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Impossible to Refuse**

 **Caskett, Meeting AU**

 **Rated T**

 ** _When Rick Castle agrees to a meeting with the head of one of New York's more efficient crime families, he has no idea what he's getting into, or how it's going to change his life._ A 2016 Castle Hiatus Mini-Ficathon story that would not have been possible without my favorite enablers. <3**

 **Chapter One**

* * *

More than once in his life, his mother has said his curiosity will get him killed, but this is probably the first time he's ever considered that she might be right.

As a mystery writer, he has met a number of – ahem – interesting individuals while researching for his books. A few CIA agents, the head of FDNY, even enforcers from a couple of the more notorious "organizations" in the city. But never anyone from this one. And after almost half an hour being under the scrutiny of two "representatives" from one of New York's less famous, but historically more "efficient" crime families, he's a little bit glad for that.

No, that's a lie – the terror curling at the edge of his stomach is still _really_ cool. He just has to hope he makes it out of all of this without being fitted for concrete shoes should this meeting not go well.

"Hey, you know I didn't get your names," he starts, tilting his head in Moose and Jimmy the Enforcer's direction. "I'm Rick Castle."

They stare back at him, looking anything but eager to make his acquaintance. The taller, dark-haired one turns back to his coffee, taking a liberal sip from the steaming mug without flinching. The fairer one eyes him for a moment longer before looking away and gesturing for a refill to his own mug.

Licking his lips, Rick continues, "Look, I really appreciate you guys talking to me. Or well, hanging out here with me, since you're really not doing much in the way of talking, and technically I'm meeting with your boss."

They blink in response, sharing a look before going back to ignoring him.

"Anyway, I just wanted to put it out there that I'm not trying to screw you over or anything like that. I'm just doing research for one of my books." He swallows. "Not that there's anything to screw you over about, after all, you're running a legitimate business here, and –"

The men stand, making their way toward him. He jumps to his feet, holding up his hands in surrender.

"Whoa, whoa, easy. You've made your point. I'll just shut up and observe. No need to be touchy."

Still, they take a step closer.

"Cut it out, guys. That's no way to treat a guest. Especially one I invited."

The goons stop, quirking unrepentant smirks over Castle's shoulder.

Rick turns, finding a woman with bright hazel eyes and upturned lips watching him, appraising him.

He does a rapid evaluation of his own. She's his height – almost his height, at least – clad in a deep blue blazer, cream blouse, and figure hugging jeans. Her dark hair has been flat ironed straight, landing at her shoulders in sharp points, but side-swept bangs add a softness to her look, breaking up the severity of the style. She's gorgeous, model gorgeous, and nothing at all like he had been expecting.

"Just wanted to see his reaction, boss," the dark-haired one says, clapping his partner on the shoulder to get him to stand down. "He did alright, I guess."

"Uh huh, cute." She rolls her eyes. "Relax, Mr. Castle. They're just messing with you. You're my guest and they know it. And if they didn't before," she adds, sending a pointed look in their direction, "now they do."

"I, ah, well thanks. I appreciate that. I feel better knowing my face won't be rearranged today."

Her lips quirk again, and he can practically hear her saying that he watches too many movies before her smile disappears and the all business mask falls back into place. "Why don't you come to my office?" she offers, her tone betraying none of the amusement he saw mere seconds ago. "We can talk there, and then you can observe more out here if you'd like."

He nods, reaching back for his notebook and the pen he had dropped upon standing.

"Sounds great."

His mystery woman – though not really a mystery, he knows exactly who she is – gives his new pals a nod before striding away, her steps confident in the pumps he hadn't noticed before now. He hangs back, his eyes lingering on the razor-thin heel, the impossibly long, slim lines of her legs, the firm curve of her a–

"Eyes up, Castle," she drawls without ever looking back. "Come on."

He follows, wondering for just a moment if she'll sic her men on him should he tell her just how hot that is.

Though it isn't exactly loud in the diner, when the door with the stern "employees only" plaque falls shut behind him and they make their way down a narrow hallway, he's struck by the absence of kitchen noise and idle chatter.

"I'm sorry about those two back there," she murmurs once they reach the door at the end of the hall.

"Who? Mutt and Jeff? I let them think they were getting to me. Wouldn't want them to feel like they're losing their touch."

Her laughter welcomes him into the office. For a woman whose reputation suggests a certain degree of stoicism in her personality, she's been particularly demonstrative with her amusement so far.

Maybe she likes him. After all, she did approach him for this meeting and not the other way around.

Oh, maybe he's about to become a mob boss's boy toy. He could live with that. Provided her enforcers out there don't jump him and make him sorry he ever walked into the diner.

"I know you had a cup outside, but feel free to help yourself to another coffee," she says, stepping around him to the cart and the cornflower blue Keurig machine at the far end of her office. He watches her lift the white mug with the bold, intricate "K" to her lips and pushes forward to join her.

"Thanks. I think I will." He reaches for plain black ceramic and studies the machine in front of him. "You know, I've been trying to decide whether to get one of these, but I can't decide if it's worth it. Do you like it?"

Most of her face is obscured by her mug, but he sees her eyebrows jump. She wasn't expecting small talk. "It makes a decent enough cup," she answers after a long pull of said coffee.

"Well, good. Glad to hear."

"Mhmm," she agrees, watching the coffee maker hum to life under his hands. He makes quick work of doctoring his coffee with cream and two sugars before turning back to her.

"So…" Rick begins, taking an experimental sip. She was right; it isn't a bad cup of coffee.

"Why don't we have a seat and talk?" she interrupts, gesturing for him to settle into one of the plush chairs across from her desk.

"Why do I feel like you're about to make me an offer I can't refuse?" he jokes, easing onto the cushion in time to see her mask shutter into place. Her amused half-smile is gone, replaced by stony blankness.

"I assure you, Mr. Castle, while some in my family might have taken that approach in the past, that's not what I'm about."

Rick nods, setting his mug down on the edge of her desk. "Of course. I didn't mean to offend you."

Her head bobs in understanding. "I know. But just to make sure we're clear, we're simply having a conversation. You are free to leave at any time, you're free to decline my proposal, as well. You won't be penalized, your family won't suffer if you say no, and you are free to come back and spend some time up front to observe for your book."

"But," he prompts, sensing a catch to that last part.

A wry smile touches her lips. "But you'll probably be ignored ninety-nine percent of the time. Nobody's going to want to talk to you. At least not for a very long time, and I'd guess by how quickly you agreed to this meeting that you're on a deadline. Your books usually come out in September, don't they? It's already February."

Ah. Well, stories are kind of his bread and butter, so silence isn't preferred. Especially since Black Pawn wants something from him soon, and he wants something to live up to Derrick Storm during the glory days. But if push comes to shove, he can make it work.

Then again, how cool would it be to get the _inside_ stories? To make his characters real, true, multi-dimensional even, instead of relying on old tricks and stereotypes.

He's already picturing a character with her grace, her wit, her presence – her story. The story that has a woman he would expect to see in a courtroom or a medical suite smack in the middle of a crime family. He needs to know. He needs to know everything.

"What's the proposal? Do you want me to be your special friend? No strings attached?"

Her lips purse at that, the glimmer of enjoyment back in her eyes. "No, thank you. I'm not looking for a date, strings or otherwise."

"Damn. Well if you change your mind, just so you know, I would be happy to be your love slave."

She snorts at that, twisting to open one of the lower drawers of her desk. "I'll keep that in mind, Castle. For now, though, I'll have to pass. But I do need your help."

That gets his attention, knocking the silly back into its place. She needs _his_ help?

"With what?" he asks. Anticipation flares in his chest, wild and desperate to know, forcing him forward in his chair.

She returns with an ordinary office file, sliding it across the desk just far enough for him to see the label on the side. _Beckett, Johanna_.

Lowering her eyes, she sucks in a deep breath and pushes her hair away from the delicate slashes of her cheeks, gathering her thoughts. For the first time since she appeared behind him out front, she looks vulnerable, exposed, and he wisely keeps his mouth shut, waiting her out.

Finally, Kate Beckett, granddaughter of the late leader of the Sarto crime family and _current_ head of the organization, looks back up at him, her hazel eyes shining fierce gold in the late afternoon sun.

"My mother's murder. I need you to help me solve my mother's murder."

Rick gawks. Okay, that is not what he had been expecting from this meeting, not even close.

"I," he falters, licking his lips. "You do know I'm a mystery writer, right? I don't… well usually I just imagine crimes, I don't really solve them."

Her hands drop to the folder, and he watches her fingers curl against the manila surface. "No, I know. But I also know your work, and I know your reputation for… researching… with various groups, and I think you can give me insight I haven't had before."

He nods, careful not to commit himself yet. Yet.

"I thought… I thought usually the family took care of things like this?"

Kate Beckett's eyes flash once more, in annoyance this time. "You need to stop watching so many Coppola movies. Yes, my family has a history of questionably legal practices, but that's not what we're talking about here."

Okay, he's still intrigued. Not quite happy to have pissed her off again, but he can tread lightly.

"What are we talking about then?"

"My mother – Johanna Beckett, formerly Sarto – was a lawyer. She wasn't in the life at all, hadn't been since she left home at eighteen. One night we were supposed to go to dinner, but she never showed. When we got home, there was a detective waiting for us. She had been found in an alley, stabbed, all of her belongings still on her."

Rick nods again, knowing there has to be more to it than that. Why come to him, a writer of all things, instead of the police? If her mother wasn't in the life…

"The police attributed it to family business, didn't they? A rival family or someone from your own?"

She clears her throat, looking away for a moment. "They were less than cooperative, let's just say that."

"What happened?" he presses, resting his forearms on the edge of the desk. His fingers flirt with the edge of the file, but he doesn't take it from her. He won't until she is ready to hand it over.

"They wrote it off as a random wayward event, said it was probably gang violence, but the insinuation was made that someone from another family could have 'had her whacked,' as you'd probably say. Didn't see any reason to investigate further, because – according to them – the family would take care of something like that," she adds, echoing his words almost verbatim.

Point taken.

"I'm not a cop," he says, wondering again why she had asked for him. "I _know_ a few cops – good cops, a former ME, even an FBI agent – who might be able to help me, but –"

"I read an interview you did a few months ago," she interrupts. "You said there's always a story, and that story matters, and that's why you're so focused on doing research, on getting things right."

He remembers that interview. He also remembers posturing for the reporter because she'd been flirty and cute and the magazine had provided some _really_ good champagne to help get him talking, but at the heart of it that answer _had_ been the truth. Knowing _why_ matters, even if, in the end, the answer is not what people want to hear.

"So give me the story for this, Mr. Castle. Give me the chain of events that makes all of this make sense." She jabs a finger into the center of the folder, quoting his interview once again. "And I'll help give you everything you need to finish your next book."

Licking his lips, Rick splays his hand wide over the file.

* * *

 _A/N: This fic can be summed up as the plot bunny that ate my brain a.k.a "how I accidentally finished the mini-ficathon on a two-ish word prompt (Mob AU)."_

 _I hope you all enjoy this little journey. It will be 9 chapters (including this one) and an epilogue._


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you all for the amazing response to the first chapter. I'm so excited to have you guys coming with me on this journey, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story!_

 **Chapter Two**

* * *

"So," he starts, placing the latte he had picked up for her just out of swinging distance and settling into the chair beside her desk that he's claimed for himself. He's been at the diner every day for almost a month, arriving soon after dropping Alexis off at school and leaving in time to pick her up, but he hasn't yet asked the one question that has been on his mind since that first day. "How did you end up running the family?"

Beckett looks up from the checkbook she's balancing, her brows high on her forehead. "Excuse me?"

He gestures to the coffee, waiting until she samples it – and makes an obscene little noise of enjoyment that will be difficult for him to forget anytime soon – to repeat himself.

"How did you end up the head of all this? Of the entire organization, I mean. You weren't in the life growing up, so how did you end up being brought back into the fold?"

"Ah," she exhales, dropping her pen and curling both hands around the travel mug. He waits her out, giving her time to collect her thoughts. "My dad took her death hard. He's sober now, going on six years."

Rick nods, offering an encouraging smile. "That's good."

"Yeah," Kate agrees, licking her lips. "It's very good, but it… it was too little too late as far as I was concerned, at least at the time. I found myself here, needing some semblance of my family. My uncle, my mom's brother, had been running things since my grandfather died; and when he got sick, I quit my job and I stepped up. I… I know mom never wanted me to be a part of this, but it helped, being here helped me. And it helped my dad get sober, too. Mostly to try to talk me out of it, but he's stuck with it, even if he hasn't changed my mind."

She steals a sip of coffee, using the time to get herself together, to soothe the ragged edge in her voice.

"I want to go legit. With all of it. No more… classic Sarto family business. But it takes work, doing it one aspect at a time to make sure I'm not pissing off the wrong people," she confesses, glancing toward the closed door. "But I think that's what my mom would have wanted to see."

Having read her file, he's inclined to agree. Johanna Beckett was a champion for good – a civil rights attorney with a win record as tall as he is, and no history of misconduct. She had truly left the life behind.

"What about your guys?" he asks. Neither Ryan nor Esposito have warmed up to him yet, but he's hopeful they'll see that he's not here to fuck them over. "Overprotective cousins?"

Kate laughs around the tightness in her throat, shaking her head. "No."

"Old boyfriends?"

She chortles, her hand flying to her mouth in an attempt to mask the sound. "Not even close. They're… it's a long story."

Rick leans forward, eager for more. He may be here to help her with her mother's case, but she's a mystery in and of herself. One he's dying to dive into. "I've got time."

She nudges him back into his seat. "Go up front and observe, Castle."

"Why would I do that?" he asks, resting his shoulders against the cushion, feeling a smile twist his lips. "I like it here."

She huffs, lifting her pen again. "Fine. Do what you want, I'm going back to work. Just keep your creepy staring to a minimum."

"Done."

He drops his head, digging into his pocket for the notes he had handwritten the night before. Some are about her mom's case, questions he has for her before he calls in a favor from a friend, some are basic character sketches, ideas for where he could use what he's seen so far in his novel. Most of the sketches are coming along nicely, but one stands out for its emptiness, especially compared to the pages of ideas about the smart, gorgeous, grief-hardened protagonist Kate has inspired. And even if he takes what he's just learned and adapts that, it needs more…

"Can I meet your dad?"

Kate's head snaps up. "Can you what?"

"Meet your dad? Observe him, too."

"No," she denies immediately, vehement. "No, absolutely not. Stay away from my dad."

Rick's brow furrows. "But if I'm basing a character on you – the people I observe around here," he corrects, ignoring the way her eyes narrow at his slip. He hasn't mentioned that yet. "If I'm basing characters on the people in this family, I need –"

"Basing a character on _me_ or not, that doesn't mean you get to go bother him, Castle. I can handle whatever consequences our association might bring my way, but my father is off limits. Capisce?"

His head bobs. He gets it, really; she's protecting her remaining parent with a fierceness, a heat, that singes his skin. "Capisce. And thank you," he adds, trying to lighten the mood, "for using my favorite phrase."

"Good." She goes back to her paperwork, ignoring him as she sips her coffee.

Silence settles between them, but it doesn't quiet the questions he still has.

Namely the ones about her theory.

"What do you think happened to her?"

Her eyes flick upward, amber under her dark lashes. She's not surprised by his interruption, but she plays it that way anyway, deflecting the attention from the subject long enough to give her time to regroup.

"What?"

"Your theory. You've told me what the police said, I've read what the police said – and I'm gonna need to see that file again, by the way, because you wouldn't let me take it with me last time – but what do you think?"

Kate's lip finds its way between her teeth, blanching white before flushing a deeper pink, and his eyes dart between the bow of her mouth and her eyes, searching for a hint about what she's thinking.

"I think you don't need to know my thoughts; you just need to help me find the facts."

That's a dismissal if he's ever heard one, but he's not deterred. His body lists forward, elbow landing with a dull thud against her desktop. He's close enough to see the line of her jaw, the stripe of foundation her rushed hands hadn't entirely managed to blend with the pale skin of her neck when she got ready that morning, and his fingers curl against his palm to keep from reaching out to touch that spot.

"Maybe not, but I still want to know."

She snorts. "Can't always get what you want, Mr. Castle."

Rick feels his lips lift. "A Stones fan, I like it."

"Of course you do." She reaches into her desk drawer for the file, plunking it beside his hand.

"I like lots of things about you," he offers.

Twin spots of color darken her cheeks, belying the annoyance of her eye roll. "You barely know me."

"Then think of how many more things I'll like when I know you better. Offer's still open to be your boy toy, by the way."

"Not sure being a boy toy would qualify you to know more about me, Castle. In fact, isn't it usually the opposite?"

One shoulder lifts. "Let's buck convention, then. I'm game if you are."

Her eyes sweep over his face, darting down his chest only to return when he squirms against the upholstered cushion. "Sorry, pal. Looks like you're in single player mode for this one."

"For now," he tosses out, offering her a smirk as he sits back in his chair, taking her mother's file with him. Her hair falls across her face as she goes back to work, but he sees the mirth on her lips anyway.

She's still smiling when he returns the file to her and promises to see her the next day. And, unless he's mistaken, she checks him out as he makes his exit from her office.

* * *

He notices the tail on the first day of the second month of their arrangement. At first, he thinks it's a coincidence, someone with a commute similar to his own, only to spot the man – men, he realizes later – watching him from half a block away as he exits his publisher's building. When he sees their reflection in a store window almost eight blocks later, he makes a snap decision not to go to the diner for the day.

Part of him wonders if he should let Kate know he won't be there, but he dismisses the idea almost as soon as he has it. He has her number, but using it just to check in seems like it would be against the rules of their arrangement. So far she's given off a "don't call me, I'll call you" vibe, and even with the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, he decides to respect that.

Instead, he slips into a coffee shop under the guise of writing and waits to leave to leave until it's time to pick Alexis up from school. As soon as she comes running down the steps of her elementary school, he declares it tourist day, and proceeds to drag her around the city to as many of the popular spots in Manhattan as he can. Safety in numbers, after all.

They manage to shake the tail in Macy's, somewhere between the shoes and the bright, cheerful children's clothing section, and he breathes a little bit easier. The downside is, of course, that his credit card gets a workout and his daughter gets enough to revamp half her wardrobe. The other half his mother will take care of when she and Alexis go for their annual spring break shopping trip in a couple weeks, he's sure.

By the time their cab pulls up in front of the loft, he has almost convinced himself that he was making it all up, that thinking someone was following him was the work of an overactive imagination caught up in the intrigue of being asked to help solve a real life mob murder mystery. Until he notices the sedan idling at the corner for far too long to be making a food delivery.

Okay, he's officially a little bit freaked out. He makes sure to pull the curtains closed before they go to bed that night.

The car is gone when he and Alexis emerge in the morning, and a careful sweep of his surroundings as they walk tells him his friends from yesterday aren't around. Still, he makes a point of taking Alexis all the way to her classroom, searching the hall for familiar (sketchy) faces.

Alexis pats his belly once they stop, dragging his attention back to her. "See you later, Dad. Remember to write today."

Rick's lips lift, his paranoia forgotten for the moment. "Yes, pumpkin. I will write my heart out."

"Good. Because tonight's sundae night."

"No, honey, tonight's Friday night." He grins at his own terrible joke, smacking a kiss on her forehead.

Oh, that's quite a look to be getting from a nine-year-old.

"Go on, have a good day. I love you." He squeezes her thin shoulders one more time before releasing her into the wild of the fourth grade.

Alexis giggles, waving over her shoulder. "I love you, too, Dad. Even though you're _weird_."

Rick grins, waiting to leave the doorway until he sees Alexis slide into her seat beside her best friend.

As a precaution, and maybe a little bit for the thrill of it, he changes taxis twice before hopping on the subway and getting off six blocks from the diner. Luckily there's still a coffee shop on nearly every corner, even this far from his destination, and he's able to duck inside to buy Kate her professional grade latte.

If this arrangement continues, he might have to look into donating an espresso machine to the diner. She might like that. Or she might hate it and hiss at him to take it back. It's toss up.

Either way, he steps into the diner with a coffee in hand, giving the nearly empty room a once over. He nods at a few familiar faces, offering two of the waitresses an exaggerated, flirtatious wink. One of the women rolls her eyes, but the other offers a wave in return.

"Morning, Maggie. You look ravishing today, as always."

She laughs, shaking her head. "One of these days I'm going to believe the bullshit you're spouting, Ricky. Then Katie'll have some competition."

"Plenty of me to go around," he says, already gravitating toward the restricted area, ready to heed the siren call of Kate Beckett. "Is she here?"

He sees Maggie smother a smile. "Does she ever leave? Go on, get out of here with that coffee before the rest of these people start thinking they can bring outside food and drink in, too."

"I'll bring you one next time and we'll call it even, how's that?"

"Gonna hold you to that," Maggie hums, already moving toward her next customer.

Rick chuckles low in his chest, shouldering the door open and slipping into the back hallway. Just like the first time, he's struck by just how quiet it is back here, as well as how dim the lighting is.

It adds a certain ambiance, of course, really drives that mob feeling home, but the transition is also kind of hard on the eyes.

Kate's office door is half-open at the end of the hall, but he taps on the wood to signal his arrival anyway. The last thing he wants to do is step into the room and get caught in a conversation he's not supposed to hear. It isn't that he doesn't believe Kate's assertion that she's taking the Sarto organization into legitimate territory, it's just that he wants to keep his legs from being broken by one of her less trustworthy business associates should they not agree with the decision.

She's alone this time, sitting on the edge of her desk, worrying her thumb nail between her teeth, eyes fixed on a point across the room. She jumps when he steps inside, getting to her feet and swiping her hand against her pants.

"Hey," he greets, holding the travel cup out to her. "Everything okay?"

Their fingers brush, fumbling together against the cup's cardboard sleeve.

"Yeah," she breathes, offering him what might be a sheepish smile. "Just – yeah. Thanks."

Yeah, he doesn't buy that, but he waits for her to enjoy a few sips of her coffee before he pushes.

"You sure? Because most people don't usually ruin their manicure over nothing."

Kate's eyes narrow, but instead of shrinking back, it makes him bold. He steps closer, lifting an eyebrow.

"I just have a lot on my mind, okay?" she returns, her voice regaining some of its normal steel.

"Like worrying about me?" he blurts out. It's a gamble, but after weeks of sitting by her desk, he can tell that her shoulders relax in his presence. And prior to him stepping into her office, she hadn't been relaxed.

She snorts, looking away before he can study the truth in her eyes. "Hardly. Worrying about turning a profit on this place once we're not –"

In deference to the open door, she leaves the rest of the sentence hanging. Reaching over, he shuts the rest of the world away, flicking the lock for good measure.

"Someone was following me yesterday. Two someones. That's why I didn't come in."

"You –" she starts, her spine ramrod straight once more.

"Your guys?" he offers, watching her hair fall over her cheeks with her denial.

She swallows hard. "What'd they look like?"

"Other than sketchy?"

"Yes, Castle. Other than sketchy."

"In that case, dark hair, both pretty tall."

"Clothing?" she clips, moving around her desk and snatching a pen from the cup.

"Jeans, dark jackets. Both of them."

She nods, writing his useless description on the back of a piece of scratch paper. "Any other defining features?"

He gives his head a quick shake. "They never got close enough for me to see much more than the basics. As soon as I realized they were following me, I tried to shake them."

"Where did you first notice them?"

"When I was leaving my publisher's office. I was going to come here afterward, but I got a few blocks away and I noticed they were still on me, so I changed my mind. And they trailed me to Alexis's school, and then for half of our afternoon. Then there was a car at the end of my street when we got home…"

Her head lifts at that, her nose crinkling just a little. It's cute. "Ah, that one was… actually me – my guys, not me me."

His cheeks lift, in spite of the serious discussion. "That was? Katherine Beckett, did you miss me?"

"No," she huffs. "I just wanted to make sure–"

"That I was okay? Careful, I might start to think that you like me a little bit."

Her eyes roll. "Not a chance. I tolerate you because you're good at what you do."

"And I'm easy on the eyes, too."

"Shut up," she mutters, taking a deep breath. "I'm going to have them continue watching you for a while –"

"But," he starts, only to have her hold up her hand to silence his protests. Well, maybe not his protests. His questions, if nothing else.

"Just until we know who was tailing you and can find out why," Kate assures, licking her lips.

"I've made friends in other families, do you think I should reach out to them?"

She shakes her head quickly, slipping the paper into her back pocket. "No. No, just… lay low. Keep doing what you usually do. You and Alexis, even your mom if you'd like, we'll watch out for you."

Kate looks up once more, seriousness painted across her features. "It might be nothing, but if it's not, you have my word, my promise – I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

And just like that, he's under the protection of the mob.


	3. Chapter 3

_I haven't had the chance to tell each one of you personally, but your amazing words, your support, and your flails for this story fill me up. Thank you all._

 **Chapter Three**

* * *

Two weeks into his protective detail, long after he's said goodbye to Kate Beckett and Sal's Diner for the day, there's a firm knock on his door. It's ridiculous to know just from the sound, but his gut tells him it's her, and he leaps to his feet to answer it before the noise can wake Alexis.

"Hey," he greets, breathless in his attempt to sound nonchalant. "I uh, what brings you by?"

Kate blinks. "Hey. Am I interrupting… anything?" Her eyebrows lift, her lips pursing in bemusement.

"Ah, no. No. Was just in my office writing. Come in?"

She nods, stepping into his loft as he steps aside. "Not entertaining?" she asks, an unreadable edge to her voice.

"Just myself – with my witty dialogue." He watches her posture relax, but doesn't call her on what he thinks may have been a flash of jealousy. She doesn't like the idea of him with someone else, huh? Interesting.

"Ahh."

Rick nods. "Yeah."

"How's that going, by the way?" Her head tilts, curiosity lighting her eyes. If he hadn't already had a feeling that she was a fan, that question – and her feigned nonchalance – just confirmed it.

"Really well. I'm making progress. Really good progress."

Kate nods, looking eager in to hear more. She's, oh, she's actually interested. Not just in the surface details, but in the way his work is taking shape.

"Come with me," he murmurs, making a snap decision to invite her into the process. "I want to show you something."

She eyes him, hanging back for just a moment before following him toward his office.

"Figured since I've seen yours, you should be allowed to see mine," he explains, grinning at her eye roll. "Couldn't help myself, sorry."

"Keep making jokes and you'll never get the chance to see mine," she mutters, looking around the room.

"No more jokes," he promises without missing a beat.

The amused upturn of her lips doesn't go unnoticed.

Her fingers reach out to brush one of his desk tchotchkes and he has to stuff his hands into his pockets to keep from doing something stupid like touching her with the same reverence. Instead he focuses on the trinkets she's examining, calling up memories of their significance in case she asks.

They both like desk ornaments, he's noticed. In fact, she has a few in her office that he's been dying to get the story of, but hasn't yet broached the subject. Maybe he'll do that the next time he's at the diner with her.

"Would you like to sit? Have a drink?" he asks finally. "Before I show you how I outline my books?"

She pauses, tugging her lip between her teeth. "Yeah, yeah I can do that. Here?"

He nods, gesturing for her to take one of the leather seats that face his desk. "I'll be right back. Red okay?"

Something warm flutters in his belly when she offers him a grin that's one part shy and one part sly. "Perfect."

On his way back, he takes a moment to study her through the open shelves of his bookcase. She has drawn her legs into the chair with her, leaving her heels in a haphazard pile on the floor as she makes herself comfortable in his home. It should send off warning bells for him, frantic reminders not to get involved with a woman with her… connections… but it doesn't. He's drawn to her in spite of it all. Over the top flirtation aside, he orients to her the moment she's near, seeking her smile, her lazy teases.

And, given that she's here when she could be pretty much anywhere else in the city, he thinks she might be gravitating toward him, too.

"You gonna keep staring, or are you gonna bring me my wine, Castle?"

"Depends," he teases, regaining his wits and stepping into his office. "Are you going to sic the very men you've charged to protect me on me if I do one and not the other?"

Her fingers slide over his when she takes the glass from his hand, deliberate, careful, and he has to cough to hide the catch in his breath.

Judging by the upturn of her lips, he fails.

"Try it," he murmurs, sinking into the chair beside her. "Let me know if you like this vintage. I have others if you don't."

She shakes her head. "This is more than okay."

"Oh. Okay. Well, good." He licks his lips, taking a slow sip of his own wine.

She's still watching him when he looks back, her face open, curious. Then her lips twist into the familiar teasing arc.

"Thought you were supposed to be some kind of playboy here, Castle. One-word sentences are not very suave of you."

"Thought you were supposed to be some kind of scary mob boss, Beckett," he tosses back. "Purple polka dots on your toes don't exactly scream menacing."

Remorse spreads through his belly as her face falls and she tugs her feet out of sight.

But she doesn't leave. She doesn't get to her feet and let her eyes flash, doesn't tell him to go to hell. Instead, she sinks deeper into the soft leather, locking her eyes on her wine glass.

"I'm sorry," Rick says once the silence gets to be too much, licking his lips. "That wasn't funny."

"Are you ever?" she retorts. Her voice is light enough, but after two and a half months, he can hear the edge to it as well.

"Now you just sound like Alexis. Everybody's a critic."

Her eyes flit in the general direction of the stairs. She's never met Alexis, only knows what he's been unable to keep himself from telling her, but it doesn't stop her from adding her two cents. "Well, she's smart."

"Almost a genius, I swear."

Kate exhales. "You're right, though. Purple polka dots are not befitting the leader of the infamous Sarto family. Which is why I do it."

"It is?"

Leaning back in the chair, she studies her wine glass for a moment longer. "I was nineteen when she died. Stanford, pre-law. I was going to be the first female chief justice; I had it all planned out, my entire life."

His heart throbs in his chest, sympathetic for her, for everything she had lost. "And then–"

"Yeah, and then. But the toenails, they help remind me that there's… that this isn't all I am now."

His tongue twists with an assurance, a promise that she's right, that there's so much more to her than the life she fell into to make it through something horrible, but the words stall at his lips.

"It's not," he manages, boldness surging through his veins as his fingers reach for hers. Kate jolts, but doesn't snatching her hand back the moment he makes contact. "Kate, you are… extraordinary. And this job, your family, doesn't make up everything you are. Not even close."

She blinks, opening and closing her mouth, nothing but air escaping. He's the one who makes the sound, however, when she pitches over the arm of the chair to press her lips to his.

Her mouth is warm over his, her lips soft, and he opens to the gentle probe of her tongue as it slips over his lower lip.

Cupping her cheek, he brings her closer, raking in a ragged breath as she gasps. She doesn't break away, though, instead she fumbles to deposit their wine glasses somewhere they won't spill, climbing over the arm of the chair and sinking into his lap. Her knees fall on either side of his hips and she rocks against him with each eager slide of her mouth.

Her fingers delve into his hair, tugging lightly, tilting his head for better access to his mouth, his jaw. His groan reverberates around the room as she trails a slow line down his neck, laving her tongue over his stubble along the way.

His fingers skid along her back, seeking the heat of her skin. Kate arches into his hands, breathing his name, breathing assent for him to touch her, to tug her blouse from her slacks and bracket his hands at the curve of her waist.

They both shudder at the roll of her hips, mouths seeking one another once more. This time he's less passive, less tentative, and her moan rockets through him.

"Bed," she pants, sinking her teeth into his lower lip. "Now."

He's on his feet seconds later, tugging her legs around his waist, making the short walk to his bedroom without a second thought.

* * *

He wakes sometime in the middle of the night to the brush of her lips over his cheek. His hands reach for her, clumsy in their sleepiness, but she evades his attempt to pull her in for round three.

"Sorry buddy," she murmurs, rubbing the tip of her nose against his skin. "I gotta go."

She's warm when she presses herself against his side, warm and dressed, and the whine builds in his throat.

"Mmm, why?"

"'Cause it's almost six; you have a kid to feed and take to school, and I have a diner to run."

"Damn responsibilities," he mutters, turning his face into her hair. Kate chuckles, and he feels her sink into him for the briefest of moments before she pats his chest and squirms away.

"I'll see you later," she says, replacing the weight of her body with the weight of his comforter.

He slips back to sleep with the warm honey of her promise lingering in the air.

At a quarter to nine – almost half an hour later than usual – he makes his way down the street, completely failing to disguise the bounce in his step as anything other than celebration of the night they'd had. Kate will probably take one look at him and tell him to try harder to look like he didn't just get laid, but he just can't; dangerous idea or not, last night had been great.

She's sitting in a booth near the back, head bent over a mug of coffee, when he steps into the diner. His feet take him to her without hesitation, plopping him down on the cushion across from her.

"Hey," he breathes, watching surprise, maybe even joy, wash across her cheeks before she smooths her face into her usual mask of indifference.

"Morning, Mr. Castle. Don't let this arrangement keep you from your busy social life, please."

Her words are droll, but her eyes dance with amusement, bright green against the backdrop of her olive shirt, clearer than he's ever seen them.

"Wouldn't dream of it. And how are you on this fine day? Have you eaten? I'm starving, and I was thinking about a short stack drizzled in syrup. Split it with me?"

"Okay, would you stop?" she hisses, leaning onto her elbows, to glare at him. "You are going to give it away."

"I am not," he scoffs. "How am I going to give anything away?"

"Really?" One eyebrow arches. "You walk in here looking like you won the sex lottery, and you want to share a stack of pancakes with _me_?"

Rick lifts a shoulder. "What's wrong with pancakes? You need to eat, I need to eat, we might as well share the meal while we're both here."

Her eyes narrow, but she doesn't add anything more. "Just… act normal. Please. Or at least whatever passes as normal for you."

"Of course."

For all her protestations, she may eat more than he does, grinning around her fork as he tells her the story of his famous happy face pancakes and how they never fail to brighten his daughter's day.

"Yeah, she loves them."

Kate smiles again, dipping her head as she chews. She waits to speak until she washes her mouthful down with a hearty sip of coffee, "You give her chocolate and powdered sugar on a pancake. It's practically a bribe."

He feigns offense. "Not all the time. _Strawberry_ happy face pancakes are, in fact, also enjoyed in our house. Same thing with blueberry."

"Uh huh," she hums, a grin cracking her face. "But?"

"But the chocolate chip and sugar ones are probably the most popular. For me, too."

"Ah, and now the truth comes out," she teases, spearing another slice of pancake and popping it into her mouth. Want surges through his belly at the curl of her lips, the low hum from her throat.

Oh, he's in deep, isn't he? One night, and he's in deep.

"I'll make them for you sometime," he says. Her eyes widen, surprise forcing her back in her seat.

"I –"

"Yo, boss. Got the info you were asking for."

Kate's eyes slide past him, landing on Kevin Ryan and Javier Esposito as they make their way down the aisle to the booth.

"You did?" She sits up, mask sliding firmly back into place. Her fingers brush the edges of the file Esposito brandishes from his jacket.

"Uh huh. Called in a favor from," he pauses, glancing sideways at Rick, "a friend. Anyway, it's as much as they could get without making it obvious what they were looking for. With some random stuff thrown in for good measure."

Kate curls a protective arm around the file, hiding any markings from him. "It's great. Thanks, Espo. And thank… your friend, too."

Esposito's ears turn an interesting shade of pink before he and Ryan move to take their place at the counter.

Ahh, that kind of friend.

"Not a word," Kate murmurs.

"I wasn't going to say anything."

She snorts. "Yeah, somehow I doubt that. Anyway, finish your food and come on; I can't show you this out here."

He drags the last of the pancakes through a puddle of syrup and shoves the bite into his mouth.

"Done."

She rolls her eyes, but doesn't argue, and he takes that as encouragement to jump to his feet and follow her.

"ME report," she explains once her office door closes behind them.

His eyes cut to the file in her hand. "For your mother?"

She nods quickly, offering it to him with steady hands. "Asked Espo to find out if we could get our hands on the original report. I just needed to know if there was… if anything had been left out of the one I was able to obtain before. Anything that would tell a different story."

Rick takes it from her, stepping into her space to press a kiss to her temple. It breaks all the boundaries, unspoken and acknowledged, and she stiffens against him, but doesn't shove him away.

"Let me take the file, both of them, and let me give everything to my contact. He one of the best, and he's discreet."

"I don't –"

"Kate, you reached out to me because you want to know. You need to know. Unless you really did just want to meet me, in which case, still the coolest fan encounter I've ever had, but–"

She snorts, stepping out of his embrace to scrub her hand through her hair.

"He can't work off of my notes alone. Let me do this for you. Let me help, if nothing else," he continues.

Her head bobs, her shimmering eyes trained on the opposite wall.

"Just think about it, okay?" he asks, backing off, waiting her out. He can wait her out for this.

After a moment, she clears her throat, nodding. "Okay. You're right. This is why I contacted you."

Unable to stop himself, he reaches for her once more, trails gentle fingers over her elbows. "It's okay, you can admit you just wanted an excuse to get me in bed."

Her laugh is tight, but it's there, and they both manage to smile. "Somehow I doubt I would've needed to resort to this to get you to sleep with me, Castle."

"No, probably not. Just asking would've done it, I think."

Kate shakes her head, nudging his chest to clear space between them again. "You probably shouldn't admit to being that easy, you know."

"Mmm, that's fair. Bad boy reputation or not, that does paint a rather desperate picture, doesn't it?"

Her eyes roll, but she doesn't correct him.

Rick watches her slip around her desk, watches her suck in a breath she releases on a slow exhale. The drawer squeaks, noisy in her quiet office, but they don't flinch.

She hands the file over, pressing the stiff paper into his hand as her mouth connects with his, hot and hard, just shy of desperate.

"See what he says."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

* * *

His life is strange.

Of course, he isn't complaining, but there's really no other way to describe it.

Three and a half months ago, he had been contemplating changing genres entirely to try to find some new inspiration for another novel. Just a week later, he met Kate Beckett. Now he's written more in a short time than he had in years, is heading – sort of – a civilian murder investigation, is being followed by the mob to make sure he's not being followed by someone worse, and is sleeping with the head of a crime family.

All that on top of being a dad who braids his daughter's wet hair after her baths at night, and sends her off to school in the most embarrassing way he can think of.

And yet, somehow it works. Or, at the very least, it hasn't blown up in his face yet.

He won't be greedy, either, but if there's one thing he hopes will go in his favor, it's that soon he'll be able to wake up with Kate Beckett. Every time she leaves, his tongue itches to whisper for her to stay. But he understands why she doesn't, why each time she's come to him over the last few weeks, she has wiggled out of his bed before dawn, and he has no doubt that asking too soon will probably end the good thing that's building between them.

Instead, he makes sure to brush his fingers over hers as he offers her the coffee he brings each morning. Instead, he returns the slight smile she sends his way with a lopsided lift of his lips. He can be patient and wait for the right time.

Today, however, Kate is nowhere to be found. The booth she favors toward the back of the diner is occupied by someone else, and her office door stands wide open, the room empty, which isn't like her at all.

Since day one, he's made a point not to look too hard into what goes on behind closed doors at the diner, and the logical part of his brain says to stay put and wait for her in his chair.

The part of him that makes decisions flexes his fingers around Kate's coffee cup and starts looking around. A _little_ bit of snooping won't hurt him, right?

He hears her voice before he makes it even halfway down the hall, and it stops him in his tracks. She's been intimidating before, firm, but today he hears her stony and cold, hard.

And hot. Very hot. (Though to be fair, _that_ part isn't anything new.)

"So let me get this straight, Donnie. You really expect me to believe that you and Eddie were 'out for a stroll,' and you just _happened_ to be walking everywhere my associate was?"

Rick stops. Is she talking to the guys who were trailing him?

"Yep. Just an innocent stroll. New York's a funny place. You encounter all kinds of people, you know."

Behind the closed door, Kate scoffs. "That's some kind of serendipity; all kinds of people in this city, and you manage to find one of mine. And not just once, but twice in less than a month."

"Free country, sweetheart. I can walk wherever, around whoever."

"Come on, Don. Who hired you? A couple weeks ago and then again today. Who told you to follow him?"

Something tingles at the back of his mind, some flicker of recognition, but he can't quite figure out why.

"My doctor. Said I needed to get more exercise. S'good for my heart."

"You really wanna bullshit me?"

The guy snorts, and Rick pictures him leaning back in a chair, cocky to a fault.

"Don't see why not. Not like you'll do anything about it. Word on the streets is you're going soft. Holding hands and having tea parties instead of conducting business. Grandpa would be so disappointed."

He doesn't need to see Beckett to know she's taking a moment to breathe. Staying in control is a point of pride for her, he knows.

"Okay, Don, I'll tell you what. Why don't you take some time, think about things a little bit harder? Going soft or not, I think you'll enjoy our hospitality."

A moment later, the door swings open, forcing Rick to take a hasty step back in an attempt to avoid being caught eavesdropping.

Kate steps out, coming just inches from colliding with his chest.

"I– hi," he breathes, hoping his innocent face is up to par today. "I was just… looking for you. Coffee?"

He thrusts the cup between them, stretching his lips into a wider smile. Innocent; he can look innocent.

"Castle." Her voice is flat, betraying nothing. He licks his lips, dropping the act and taking a step back.

"I'll wait in your office."

It must be the right answer, because she steps back. "I'll meet you there."

"Kay."

She stalks off first, leaving him to cast one last glance at the room she had just exited and wonder.

He's still pondering what he'd heard – both the force behind her words, the way she had goaded the guy, and the interrogation itself – when she steps into her office. As she pushes the door shut and straightens her shoulders, the gentle tug at the back of his mind strengthens to a yank.

"Rick –"

"Oh my God, you're a cop!"

Kate freezes, surprise sliding across her features. He's right, he has to be right. It explains so much. The way she moves, the way she commands a room.

"Castle –" she tries again.

"You are, aren't you? You walk like a cop, you interrogate like a cop, you know all about –"

Her head shakes, her face morphing into a mournful grimace.

"No. No, I'm not. I'm… I thought I might be once, but I'm not."

"Oh."

She nods shortly, stepping around him to sit at her desk. "He'll give up who had you followed. He just needs to stew for a bit."

Rick nods, in return, nudging the coffee her way. "Are you… what does making him stew entail?"

Her shoulders sink in relief and he knows he made the right choice in letting the subject drop for the time being. Not for good, of course, because he _needs_ to know what she meant by that, but for the time being.

"Sitting by himself, maybe being stared at by Espo for a while."

"Not –"

"No," she cuts him off quickly. "None of that."

"Got it. So who do you think had him trailing me?"

Beckett gives a noncommittal shrug. "Someone you annoyed, obviously."

Deflecting, okay. He can play along.

"Yes, well, I do manage that from time to time."

Her lips twitch. "I'd say it's one of your best skills."

"That?" he asks, one eyebrow arching. "Or… another talent of mine?"

She moves quickly, closing the distance between them once more. Her fingers bite against his scalp, her mouth already claiming his. Her tongue slicks over his lip, inviting him to reciprocate, to tease right back.

They're both panting, dazed, when she tears away.

"Well," she says, pressing her thumb to his mouth, "maybe it's one of your second tier skills."

Hmm, he can live with that.

* * *

"Kate," he murmurs later, stretching his hand across the desk to brush his thumb against her knuckles. They've been sitting in silence since she had returned for a second time from the makeshift interrogation room (having declared it off limits to him, of course), and he needs to know.

"What?"

"What'd he say?"

She exhales. "He still maintains that he was just out for a walk."

"That's one hell of a walk. All over Manhattan."

Kate snorts, curling her index finger around his. "Donnie's a fitness guru now, apparently."

"Somehow I doubt that. How well do you know him?"

Her head lolls to the side. "Why, Ricky? You jealous he might be my high school sweetheart? My mob family betrothal?"

Rick snorts, "Hah double hah. I'm just curious."

"Relax, baby," she croons, patronizing. She stretches over, patting his cheek. "Donnie the Doofus was never my high school heartthrob."

"Uh huh. So who's he with? Which family?"

Beckett shakes her head. "He's freelance. A kid who, while not too bright, figured out that doing favors was the way to go. Petty stuff, mostly. Intimidate a Bodega owner or two, sit on someone's apartment stoop to make a point, stuff like that."

Rick's head bobs. "So is this something I should worry about? Someone paying this guy to follow us to make a point?"

She swallows, squeezing his fingers. "I won't let anything happen to you. Either of you."

"I know, but–"

"But nothing. We're going to find out who hired him."

"You're evading, Kate," he says. "I'm not asking for me – well, not solely for me – I'm asking for Alexis. Because I can hire someone to protect her at times you can't."

She bristles. "You don't trust me?"

Two months ago his answer might have been different, but today he shakes his head. "I trust you, Kate. But you have to admit you can't send a member of a crime family into a school to sit with a bunch of fourth graders during the day."

After a moment, she nods. "Okay, I concede that."

"I trust you. And I trust you with her. But as a dad? More protection for my daughter is better than less. No matter how good it is."

Kate's head dips. "Okay, okay. I want to know more before I sound the alarm, but the moment I find out anything, I will tell you if extra protection is necessary. At this moment, I don't think it is."

Licking his lips, Rick nods. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Do you think it's because I'm looking into your mom's death?" he asks a few minutes later, finally putting a voice to the conspiracy theory he's been entertaining all morning.

Her pen never falters against the page, but an assurance that the two events are unrelated doesn't come.

"I don't know," she admits finally, dragging her teeth over her lip. "The thought has crossed my mind, though. And I… if you want to stop, I don't blame you."

Maybe he should stop. The last thing he wants is to put his daughter in danger, or to put her life at risk if someone is hell-bent on keeping the truth of what happened to Kate's mother from seeing the light of day, but he needs to help.

Not for himself, but for Kate. For the woman beside him, the one with brilliant hazel eyes and a sad twist to her smile, the one who arches into him and gasps his name from the haven of his bed, the one who makes him laugh and busts his chops over the silliest of things, he needs to help.

"No. No, I'm staying." Her eyes lift to his, forcing him to elaborate, "If it… if things escalate, I'll reevaluate, but right now, I'm staying."

"Castle, I don't – what about your daughter?"

"Will have a protective detail that rivals the president's if necessary," he says. "Let's get this done, Beckett. You've waited a long time for answers."

Her face softens, something resembling relief flashing in her eyes. "Have you heard from him? This Doctor Murray you turned everything over to?"

Rick shakes his head. "No, but he has the information. I took it to him personally when he got back from Germany the other day; he said he'll call as soon as he knows something. He said it could take some time, though. Part of why he's so good is because he's so thorough."

She nods, exhaling. "Okay."

"But in the meantime," he starts, looking over the form she'd abandoned and finding it lacking just a few details. "Why don't we call it a day and get something to eat? Early dinner?"

Kate breathes a laugh, filling in the next empty line. "A very early dinner? Do you know what time it is?"

"Well… there are other ways to pass the time while we wait for it to get a little later." His fingers brush the back of her hand, tantalizing, teasing. "If you're interested?"

"What about Alexis?" she murmurs.

"Went home with a friend after school. I apparently authorized a sleepover the other night when I was falling asleep writing."

She snorts. "You know you're not making a case for your vitality here, Rick. Early dinners and falling asleep before nine-thirty."

"My vitality is just _fine_ , thank you. And I'll prove it to you this fine evening if you're interested."

He watches her consider his proposal, hesitation – or maybe anticipation – making her squirm in her seat. They've eaten meals together before, but always impromptu, never planned. And never with the implication – no, the outright promise – that the night will end with her back against his front door and his tongue in her mouth. "Oh, all right. For the sake of appeasing your ego."

"Perfect." Rick claps his hands, getting to his feet before she can stall or change her mind. "Let's go."

* * *

She's gorgeous when she sleeps.

Not that she isn't stunning all the time, but sprawled on her stomach beside him in his bed, her fingers tucked under her chin and her mussed hair falling over her cheeks, it's the first descriptor that comes to mind. Gorgeous. Her face is soft with relaxation, unburdened by the tension she carries every day, and he can't help but trail a finger over her forehead and down her nose, tracing her features.

"Mmph," she grumps, swatting at his hand. "Stop, Rick."

Catching her fingers, he draws her knuckles to his mouth. "Sorry. Go back to sleep."

She hums, nudging her face deeper into the pillow. He watches awareness slip away once more, her fingers growing limp in his grip.

She doesn't stop very often, he knows. He's seen her at work; she's a force of nature, going until the job is done. But here she is, resting with him.

Kate grumbles again, rolling onto her side – away from him – yanking the covers up to her shoulders. He has to suppress a chuckle, but doesn't otherwise break the gentle spell they're under.

"Stopstaring. Hatethat."

He hums, slipping his palm along her side before settling his hand on her hip, keeping their connection even as the space between them grows.

"Can't help it, you're hot when you sleep."

She snorts. "Not gonna be hot when I'm kicking you onto the couch."

Squirming closer, he feathers his lips over her shoulder. "To be fair, that'd still be pretty hot. You standing over me, naked, growling a little bit," he teases, brushing his nose against her skin, feeling a shiver roll up her spine. "Kind of like you are now. Sexy."

Her arm twists, hand fumbling until it connects with the back of his neck. "Why are you still awake? You were passed out an hour ago."

"Second wind," he explains, leaning into the warmth of her body. "Thinking about you."

Her fingers tighten once against his skin, but she waits him out, waits for more of an explanation. He forgets sometimes that, as easily as he's learned to read her, she has some of the same instincts about him.

"What'd you mean when you said you thought you might be a cop?"

"Rick, I don't –"

"Please?" he tries.

Her head shakes against the pillow. "You don't need to know."

"Of course I do."

"No," she retorts, squeezing his neck once more. Less affectionate this time, more warning. "You _want_ to know."

"Well yes. That, too."

Her hand falls away from his skin as she scoots out from under the covers. Pushing himself up, Rick watches her grab a shirt from the pile of discarded clothing and throw it on over her head.

He murmurs her name, waiting until she's at least cocked her head in acknowledgment to ask, "Where are you going?"

Her fingers scrub through her hair, failing to bring order to the sleep-mussed strands. "The bathroom, Castle. And no, you don't get to ask what happens in there."

She pads through his darkened bedroom without another word, leaving him to flop back onto the mattress and kick himself for pushing too hard.

He should've just shut up and let her sleep.

She returns a few minutes later, slipping back under the covers and reclaiming her spot at his side. At least there's that; she came back to bed.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out when the silence goes on a little too long. "I get too… sometimes."

Her lips purse, eyes searching his for a moment before she exhales.

"I washed out."

"What?"

She swallows hard. "I washed out of the NYPD. Right after college."

"Kate," he breathes, stunned.

"I was so desperate to know. I thought I would become a cop, reopen the investigation, find her killer, and that would magically fix everything."

"But it didn't?"

She shakes her head. "I didn't even get that far. I failed the psych exam in the academy. I was at the top of my class in everything – shooting, hand to hand combat, even in the classroom. But I failed the fucking psych exam and they wouldn't let me graduate. They said I was a loose cannon – that I'd get someone killed – and they couldn't, in good conscience, give me a badge and a gun."

His hand skims her cheek without waiting for permission to touch her, but she doesn't shrug him off. Instead, her eyes slip shut and she releases a shaky breath, her cheek turning into his palm.

"After that, I was just… drowning. My mom was gone, my dad spent his nights – and most of his days – in the bottle, and I had just lost my chance to get answers. When the rest of my family reached out to me, they were like dry land. They had loved my mom as much as I did, they missed her as much as I did. And they were angry as hell that she was gone, too."

There's nothing he can say to that; sympathies would ring empty, apologies useless. His mouth brushes her forehead, tracing a gentle line over her brow.

"So," she clears her throat. "There you go. There's your story. Still want to base your new character on me? A police academy wash out turned mob boss? And all because my mommy died?"

"Yes," he breathes. "A character, an entire fucking novel. Hell, Kate, everything I can. Because you are remarkable. Your story is remarkable."

She snorts. "I'm not."

"You are," he argues. "You survived all of that, and you're still here. You're leading your family away from a lifestyle that your mother detested, and you're setting them right. That's extraordinary, Kate."

Her eyes shine deep jade in the pale sliver of moonlight coming in from the window, but the tears don't fall. Without a word, he presses his lips to hers in the gentlest of kisses.

"And you and me, we're going to find her killer, no badge necessary – unless you count the chocolate one Alexis bought me for my birthday last year."

She puffs a laugh against his mouth, drawing him in for another kiss, a lazy one this time.

The band around his chest eases; already they're back on a somewhat even keel.

"I hope so. Otherwise, I know people."

Rick pulls away, eyes narrowed, only to find her lips arcing upward, her tongue poking out between her teeth.

"Funny, Kate."

Her fingers slip into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. "Espo offered to do some of his best work on you, you know."

"Are you messing with me?"

"Maybe. You want to test it?"

"Evil woman."

She laughs, flashing her teeth. "Call it payback for waking me up."

Pulling her closer, he slips his knee between hers, cards his fingers through her hair. "I am sorry for that."

"Uh huh. What else do you desperately need to know? Might as well get it out, 'cause once I go back to sleep, I might shoot you if you wake me up again."

"Ryan and Esposito." It's not a question, but she nods anyway.

"Friends from the academy. They… when they found out I'd been cut, they tried to get the deputy commissioner to reconsider, and when he didn't, they tried to quit. I wouldn't let them do that, and we all went our separate ways once I left. Then three years later, they walked into the diner and said they were there to be my backup. They've been with me ever since."

That isn't even close to what he would've expected, but knowing the rest of the story, it makes sense. The fierce loyalty, the protective streak both of the other men have toward Kate, even the fact that they're not part of the traditional family but they're trusted like they are.

"You're your own mob. A mini mob within the mob," he murmurs, thumbing the curve of her ear. She shivers, making a half-hearted attempt to squirm away from the touch.

"No, we're… we're something, but we're not that. The attitude, the tough guy acts… it's for show, reputation," she exhales, dropping her head against his collarbone. "Anyway, has your curiosity been satisfied?"

"For now," he says, pushing the remaining questions out of his mind, making himself open to the gentle tide of slumber. They have time for more. Plenty of time.

"Good." Her lips pucker against his bare skin, barely a kiss, before she rolls onto her other side. "Then go to sleep."

His foot nudges hers, lending her cold toes his warmth. Kate hums, flexing her ankle once before sinking deeper into her pillow.

The next time he opens his eyes, he finds the curve of her smile dusting against his mouth. It's early, albeit not as close to dawn as she's prone to leaving, but still Rick groans.

"Gonna get going," she whispers. "Sleep some more before you have to go get Alexis."

"Could stay," he suggests, cupping the ball of her shoulder. "Don't have to leave."

Kate brushes her lips over his nose. "I know. Another time."

"Mhmm, holding you to that."

She bites her lip, already scooting away from him. Instead of annoyance or frustration, though, he sees something resembling desire in her eyes. Desire to crawl back into bed and rest with him?

"Good; do that. See you later."

He echoes her goodbye, wiggling his fingers.

Yeah, she's totally going to stay next time.

* * *

 _A/N: My apologies for the delay in posting this chapter. I'm adjusting to a new schedule and commute, and didn't have the chance to prep the post last night or this morning. Thank you all for your patience, your kind words, your encouragement, and every bit of enthusiasm you're offering this story. (And I know it's been quite some time, but I promise that_ Our Best Selves _has not been abandoned - I'm working on that as well!)_


	5. Chapter 5

_I can't say it enough, but thank you all for your support, your words, your belief in me, and your willingness to take a chance on this story. Happy CastleFanficMonday!_

 **Chapter Five**

* * *

He's in the process of plating dinner when Kate's now-distinctive no nonsense knock echoes through the loft. She's early, but he can't blame her for being eager. Since his phone had trilled in his pocket on the walk home from school, he's been on tenterhooks, too.

Dr. Murray will be joining them later to tell them what he's found.

"I'll get it!" Alexis leaps to her feet, skidding across the hardwood floor to fling the door open (without bothering to peer through the side panel first, which is something they're going to have to discuss). "Hi. Are you looking for my dad?"

"I, ah–" he hears Kate stammer. "Yes, yes I am."

"Kay. Do you work together?" Alexis asks, stepping aside.

"Um, well, something like that?"

His daughter nods. "Cool. Do you tell him to work, too? Cause I do. If I don't, Gina yells at him. And _nobody_ wants that."

Kate smiles down at the girl, but her eyes flick across the room to find him wincing. Somehow that lifts her lips even higher. "She does, does she?"

Rick settles the plates on the counter. "You know what? That's probably not that important right now. Thanks for letting Kate in, pumpkin. Come grab your dinner. The sooner you eat, the sooner you finish your project, the sooner we get to the celebratory ice cream sandwiches."

Alexis takes the bait, clapping her hands and skidding past him.

"Hey," he offers, stepping up to his – stepping up to Kate, taking in the rigid line of her spine, the hunch of her shoulders. "You need a minute?"

She glances between him and Alexis before giving her head a quick nod toward his office. "Do you mind? I can wait in there if you want to eat before he gets here."

"No, no. Not at all. Pumpkin, we'll be in the office for a few minutes."

"Kay, but you better eat fast when you get back!"

"You got it. Can't have you rationing my dessert."

He can't help but smile at Kate's breathy little puff of laughter as she precedes him into the other room. The bookshelf walls don't afford them much privacy, but he still nudges the door partially closed.

"Gina, huh?" she asks, stepping close enough to trip her index finger down his sternum.

"My publisher. And my ex-wife, technically, but –"

She stops him with a sharp kiss, flashing her teeth against his lower lip, swallowing his moan with the press of her mouth.

"Well hi," he breathes when she releases her claim on him.

Kate hums, dragging her tongue over her lip. She doesn't back away, however, seemingly content to remain in his space.

"So," he prompts after a moment, slipping his hands down her sides. "Is that how you handle nerves? Because I have to tell you, I kinda like it."

"No, that was just to make sure you didn't say something stupid."

He grins, thumbing the edge of her leather jacket. He likes this possessive side of hers. "That's fair, and your objection has been duly noted; there will be no more talking about my ex-wives."

Kate's shoulders lower, some of the tension leaving her body as he attempts to breathe levity into the situation.

"He found something, right?" she asks, lifting her chin. "He has to have found something, otherwise he wouldn't need to come over. Don't you think?"

It's possible the doctor could just want to return the files to him personally, but if that had been the case, his tone wouldn't have been grave the way it had been; Dr. Death, despite the nickname, was a friendly, personable individual.

"Yeah," he agrees, thumbing her sides. "He found something. Something that will help us."

Kate exhales, tapping her forehead against his chin. "Thank you for this. And if it… if it's bad, you don't need to keep at it. I can do the rest myself. I didn't have a place to start before, and maybe now I will."

"And rob myself of the chance to solve a mystery?" he starts, keeping his voice light. The last few months have been good for him. And unless he's totally off-base, they've been good for her, as well. "Do you know me at all? I'm with you."

"You sure about that?"

He nods, searching out his daughter between the shelves, watching her pour over her book between bites of food. His daughter's happiness and safety is his top priority, but if he can preserve that and solve this (or help solve it, at the very least) for Kate, he's not backing down.

"I'm sure. Plus, Ryan and Esposito are finally starting to warm up to me. Leaving would just undo all that progress."

Kate laughs. "Yeah. Yeah, it would."

"Yeah," he agrees, flexing his fingers against her shirt. "Now, want to have dinner while we wait for Dr. Murray to get here?"

She takes a tiny step back, her head shaking. "I shouldn't – it's your time with your daughter."

"Yeah, you're going to figure out quickly that she's pretty sick of having my constant undivided attention. Come on," he tries again, lowering his hand to grasp her fingers. "I made plenty."

He doesn't give her the opportunity to protest further, instead tugging her back into the other room to fix their plates.

* * *

After they're done eating, he sends Alexis upstairs to work on her final science project of the school year while he and Kate take care of the dishes. The task is mostly to give Beckett an outlet for some of her nervous energy besides squirming in her seat, but there's something nice about standing shoulder to shoulder with her at the sink, something domestic. She seems to relax as well, pushing him out of the way a few times to dip her hands into the hot water and take over scrubbing at stubborn caked-on food.

Still, she goes rigid as soon as the buzzer sounds.

"Leave the rest," he says, giving her shoulder what's meant to be a comforting squeeze. "We'll meet you in the office."

Kate nods, pushing her hair behind her ear, offering him an uneasy smile. He fights the urge to kiss her, curling his fingers against her shoulder once more instead.

"Doctor Murray," he greets a few seconds later, pulling the door open wide for the other man. "Thanks for agreeing to come over so late."

The other man steps into the loft, offering a quick smile. "Not a problem, Rick. The timing actually worked out perfectly; I had other business earlier."

He nods. "Well good, that's good. Can I get you a drink?"

"No, no, nothing for me."

Rick nods again. "In that case, lead the way." He gestures for the doctor to go first, stopping to grab Kate's wine glass from the kitchen counter.

He steps into his office in time to hear her thanking Murray for coming and offering him a seat beside hers, her voice quiet but strong, exactly as it is every day at the diner. Her nerves have been buried for the time being.

"Sorry to just cut to the chase, but what do you have for us?" she asks, declining the wine glass in favor of tangling her fingers in her lap. Rick nods, perching on the arm of her chair, unwilling to leave her side to drag his desk chair over and join them formally.

Clark's eyes bounce between them, giving them both the opportunity to back out. When a protest doesn't come, he clears his throat, opens the file.

"All of the original reports you gave me indicate that the stab wounds were made at random, but upon taking a closer look, that's not the case."

A low noise spills from Kate's lips, covered quickly by a cough and her nod to continue.

"What makes you say that?"

"This wound," he says, pointing to one of the markings in the photo, "was the fatal one. The placement was deliberate; a blow to the kidney that sent her body into shock. The other wounds were secondary, staged to make it look random."

Kate's fingers brush the edge of the photo, far more steady than his would be if their roles were reversed. After a moment, she yanks her hand back, pressing her thumb into the meat of her palm.

"So she wasn't just killed for being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Unless the individual also just happened to be highly skilled, I would have to say no. Because I did some checking, looked for other cases, and I found four."

Rick blinks. "Four others? Is this – are we dealing with a serial killer?"

Murray shakes his head. "I don't believe so. At least not by the classic definition. All of the other cases had the same cause of death, and all had been written off as random and were left unsolved, except for the most recent. That murder was attributed to an enforcer from the Latin Kings."

Kate's head shakes. "That doesn't make sense. The Latin Kings want turf, not murder raps."

"I agree. And I've contacted the detectives who closed that case to find out more, but they haven't returned my phone call yet. I believe the murder weapon to be a special forces knife, and that, combined with the single fatal blow, suggests a killer with extensive military training. Not a member of a New York City gang."

Her shoulders hunch, her head bowing. "A contract killer?"

"That I can't say."

Rick licks his lips, debating for the briefest of seconds before unfurling his fingers against Beckett's back. Her breath hitches, but she doesn't shrug him off, doesn't acknowledge him at all, and he doesn't remove his hand. Instead, his fingers splay wider, pressing more of his warmth into her skin through her clothes. "What's our next step?"

Clark closes the file, passing it back to them. It's heavier than it was before, made so with the information on the other victims, Rick guesses. "I'll consult with the detectives on the most recent case and, if I can tell you anything more, I'll be back in contact. After that? It's up to you what you do with this."

"Is there enough to reopen Johanna Beckett's case?"

Kate jolts, sending an accusatory glare his way. "And let the same cops who covered it up the first time do it again? Let them pin her murder on this guy from the Latin Kings, and wrap it up in a neat little bow for good? No thank you, Castle."

His thumb slides over her shoulder blade in attempt to soothe the sting of the suggestion. The last thing he wants is to give the people who screwed up her mom's case the chance to make it worse, but the stakes are higher now. No less important, but higher.

"This is my _mother_ , Rick," she insists, her voice cracking painfully.

"I know, Kate. I know. I–" he stops, watching Dr. Murray stand. "I'll walk the doc out and then we'll hash out a plan, okay?"

He knows she wants to bristle at being put off, but she doesn't fight him. Instead, her mask slips back into place and she stands, offering the doctor her hand once more.

"Thank you, Dr. Murray, for everything. Please let us know if you find out anything else about this latest case."

"I will. And I know it's not much, but my condolences about your mother."

Her face softens. "Thank you. And thank you for what you're doing to help us find her killer."

Doctor Murray nods again, turning on his heel and moving toward the front door.

"I'll be in touch, Rick."

They share a quiet nod before Castle allows the door to swing closed. A glance at his watch tells him Alexis will be down soon to remind him of the dessert he had promised, which means another interrupted conversation with Kate unless they talk fast.

She's sitting at his desk when he returns to the office, her nose buried in the file already. She doesn't even spare him a glance before picking up where they'd left off.

"I don't want the cops on this."

"I hear you, Kate, but the detectives who worked her case originally might not even be there anymore. We could make real headway with an official investigation."

Her head shakes. "They may all be retired, or they may have moved up the ranks. And then what? We let them railroad the case from the top? No."

Licking his lips, Rick gives her that one. "Okay, so how do you want to handle it?"

Finally, she lifts her eyes, pinning him to his spot with the intensity in her gaze. The trust.

"We start at the beginning. Just us."

Rick nods, slipping his fingers over hers. He can do this. She knows his limit, she knows where he'll draw the line, but until then he'll be there. "Deal. But first, ice cream sandwiches, then we'll work until bed."

Kate laughs, a little bit strangled and caught in her throat, but still a laugh. "Okay."

"Okay," he agrees, squeezing her hand. The invitation slips past his lips before he can stop it, but he can't bring himself to regret it, "Stay tonight?"

She leans into the kiss he offers, curling her fingers around his wrist. "Still gonna bring me coffee in the morning if I do?"

"Of course. Hand crafted with lo– only the finest ingredients, and made with unmatched skill."

Ignoring his blunder, she brushes her nose over his cheek. "Yeah, that you're going to have to prove. Because I know a few baristas who make a mean vanilla latte."

He turns his head, covering her mouth with his. The kiss centers something in his chest, soothes the fluttering uneasiness, and the sigh she releases against his mouth makes him think it may be doing the same for her.

"Challenge accepted."


	6. Chapter 6

_Thank you all so much for your continued support. You have no idea how much your kind words lift me up. My apologies for posting so late today!_

 **Chapter Six**

* * *

She isn't beside him when he's pulled from sleep, but the scratch of pen on paper tells him she's nearby. Probably pouring over what they know, despite the fact that it's been days since he had added anything to their file, despite his promise to tell her the moment he finds something new in his research.

In the three weeks since they met with Dr. Murray, save for a couple days after school got out when he took Alexis to her mom's, he's turned his attention almost exclusively to Kate's mother's case. Whoever was hired to kill Johanna and the other victims is likely laying low, basking in the accomplishment of sending another man to jail for one of his crimes. So instead of coming at things head-on and concentrating on finding him, they're doubling back, focusing on Johanna and her activities to find the link. The why.

So far he's found that three of the other victims were people her mother knew. Two she had worked with on community outreach projects and through her law firm, one a clerk in the court records office. If he were writing the story, that would put Johanna at the center of everything. He just doesn't know what.

It's not much, but has ignited a fire in his girlfriend unlike anything he's ever seen from her.

Yeah, he's calling her that now, even if it's only in his head. She's his girlfriend. She stays the night, she eats dinner and sometimes breakfast with his kid; she's his girlfriend.

"Kate," he rumbles, padding into his office, hoping he won't bash his toe against her shoes like he did the last time she burned the midnight oil on this. "It's late; thought you said you had to be up early for that meeting with your new distributor?"

"Potential distributor. And I do," she says, her voice far away, absent. "I just had a thought I wanted to check out."

"Ah," he hums, waiting her out. After a moment she glances up, eyes flashing wild in the dark before she comes back to herself and reaches for him.

"What woke you?"

Dipping, he drops a kiss to her hair. "You stole all the covers then didn't give them back when you got out of bed. I think my ass has a touch of frostbite."

Kate breathes a laugh, wiggling nimble fingers into the back of his pajama pants to poke at said ass. "Feels okay to me."

He jumps at the light pinch she bestows on his rear, stealing her mirth with the slide of his lips. "Come back to bed?"

She breaks away, giving the pages she'd been studying a long look. "I will. I just want to finish writing this down first."

Lifting a hand, he lets his fingers flirt with the back of her neck, pressing his thumb into the space at the top of her shoulder that he knows has to be cramping. Kate exhales, head falling forward under his ministrations.

"What was your idea?" he asks. She may not be ready to come to bed, but he refuses to let her sit up alone.

"I think my mom was working a case, or researching for one. And that's probably why the records clerk was killed. He had to have seen something or known something, right?"

"That would make sense," he concurs, concentrating his massage at the base of her skull. She hums her appreciation, encouraging him to continue even as she fights to keep herself on task.

"So we need to find what she was looking for. What Scott helped her find. I think that's the key. Whoever wanted her dead wanted her dead because of that."

His eyes slip shut, lulled by the warmth of her under his hands, the quiet cadence of her voice.

"What about her files?" he asks, clearing his throat. "Did she keep copies of her cases at home? Or maybe notes?"

Kate leans into his hand. "She kept journals at home with notes about her cases, but I looked through all that. Nothing jumped out at me."

"When? Recently?"

"I – no, no it was years ago. And I didn't know then what I know now." Understanding slides over her features, a renewed excitement taking control. Her hands come up, bracketing his face. "Castle, you're a genius."

Pride wraps itself around his heart. "I know," he answers, chuckling when she huffs. "So your place tomorrow? After your meeting? We'll go back through everything."

"Yeah," she agrees, taking a firm kiss from his mouth. "Perfect."

He agrees, easing her out of the chair. They're not going to make any more progress tonight. "Bedtime, Beckett."

"Bedtime," she hums, curling her fingers under his waistband once again, eradicating any trace of his prior exhaustion. "Or _bed_ time?"

His lips slide over her arched brow, one arm winding around her waist to draw her higher up his body. "Join me in the other room and you'll find out."

* * *

The moment he steps onto Kate's street, awareness curls at the back of his neck. He's used to having a tail – two of Kate's distant cousins who don't really care to say much to him as he goes about his day to day activities – and, though it was weird at first, the feeling of being watched had faded after the first week. But this is different.

This is the same prickle he had experienced when Donnie and his friend had spent the day following him around.

He's being watched. And not just by Frankie and John.

Tugging his phone from his pocket, he pretends to check his email, all the while shooting a text to his detail (and to Kate) to tell them his feeling. They might not do anything, but at least he's keeping them in the loop.

Two minutes later, Kate's reply directs him away from her building and to a coffee shop a couple blocks away. Seconds later, another text comes in, promising to meet him there. The message is clear: her place is off-limits for the time being.

She strides into the Starbucks almost half an hour after he arrives, surveying the room and offering Frankie and John a tiny nod before making her way to him. Her cousins slip out the front door a moment later.

"Sorry about being late," she apologizes, waving for him to sit when he attempts to rise to greet her. "Thanks for indulging me with this."

"Not a problem," he insists, gesturing for her to sit. "Got your coffee."

She smiles, lifting the cup as she sinks onto the couch beside him.

"How'd your meeting go?" he asks, leaning on his elbows, knocking her knee with his own.

Her cheeks darken with a flush he's come to realize means she's pleased.

"Really well. They're interested in doing business with us. And they're giving us a great rate."

"Good, that's really good."

She beams, bumping an impulsive kiss against his cheek. "Thanks. How are you?"

One shoulder lifts. Sheepishness had started to creep in as he'd waited for her to meet him. He had no proof that he was being followed again; maybe he had overreacted.

"You made the right call," she murmurs, sipping her latte. "We'll go over there once Ryan and Espo finish their sweep around my place."

"You think someone was watching your building and not me?"

Her chin dips. "Call it a hunch."

A hunch? What does that mean?

"Kate?" he prods.

"I had a weird feeling the last few times I've been home, okay?" she says, rubbing her forehead.

His brow furrows. "You didn't tell me that."

His girlfriend bumps their knees together in subtle reproach. "What would you have done, Rick? Left Alexis by herself to come sit and watch a window with me?"

"Okay, that's fair. But you could've come to my place."

"Uh huh. And led anyone looking to intimidate me straight to you and your kid?"

She has a point, he knows, but he has to remind her Alexis has been gone for almost two weeks.

"And I've been with you almost every night of that time. My point is if someone's making a move now, we'll know. But given my business, I can't exactly go running to someone else any time something feels a little odd."

Castle sighs. "I know, I know. I just…"

She hums, looping her pinky around his. "I know, Rick. On another note, I thought of something you might like when I was on the subway."

"Oh?" he asks, trying desperately not to look too eager. It helps to focus on something other than what could be lurking out there.

"Yeah. Next time I head down to the docks to check on our warehouse, come with. I bet it'll be right up your alley."

Rick grins, straightening his shoulders. "I would love to. Thanks."

"Uh huh." Her lips curl higher. She's excited to help him, he knows, no matter how nonchalant she tries to be.

"Maybe Nikki will chase a suspect down there. It'll be great."

"Mhmm, I still hate that name."

"I know you do," he singsongs, lifting his coffee to his lips. "Still not changing it. It's a great name for an undercover cop."

Kate rolls her eyes. "Shut up. I just still can't believe you chose _that_ name, of all things."

"You'll love it. You'll see."

"Uh huh. I doubt it. It's a stripper name."

Rick grins, squeezing her hand. She huffs but squeezes back. She'll come around; he already knows she will.

As silence settles between them, he can almost pretend that they're in the coffee shop for normal reasons – just two people on a date, enjoying their time together – and not waiting to find out if they're going to be ambushed the moment they step foot into Kate's apartment.

"You regretting this yet?" she asks after a few minutes, her lips twisting into a wry smile.

"Hmm?"

Her fingers slip from his to brush her hair behind her ear. "All of this. Bet your life was a lot simpler before you met me."

"Maybe it was," he starts, swallowing hard at the grimace she attempts to hide from him. "But it was also pretty miserable."

She snorts. "Yes, not being concerned for your safety is _terrible_. How did you ever get by?"

"Well that part's not so fun, but Kate," he reaches for her hand once more, "I hadn't written a word in over a year. I hadn't had a decent conversation with anyone I wasn't related to in so long, I'd almost forgotten what it was like to actually talk to someone. I hadn't been challenged by anyone, or hell, even had a real friend in a long time. So no, not regretting this at all." He punctuates the statement with the touch of his lips to her knuckles.

Her face brightens, her smile girlish and soft. His breath catches in his throat; she's so damn gorgeous, it makes him ache to draw her closer, to press his awe into her skin.

"Yeah?" she breathes, lowering her chin, tucking her joy close once more.

"Yeah."

"And not just because we're…"

"Dating?" he supplies, watching the flush rise up her neck.

"Mhmm." His chest expands with her quiet confirmation. It had been a gamble even bringing it up, and a part of him had expected her to shy away, to deny the truth of what they are, but she doesn't.

"No, not just because of that little detail," he promises. It's good to stay focused, even when every cell in his body is angling her way. "No regrets here."

Kate nods, but doesn't reply. Instead she shifts closer, settling against his side, rubbing her palm over the curve of his knee.

They sit together without another word, sipping their coffee until Kate's phone buzzes from her thigh.

"The guys?" he asks, taking her empty cup from her hand, preparing to head to the counter for refills. She nods, pocketing the phone and getting to her feet as well.

"Yeah. It's clear. We can head over."

"Good. Let me just get a refill and we'll go?"

She nods, squaring her shoulders. "Kay."

In spite of the all-clear, she's still tense as they make their way back to her apartment. He doesn't have the training of a cop, but his eyes sweep the space around them anyway, his muscles coiling in preparation of something. A fight or a flight, he's not sure which it might be.

Ryan and Esposito greet them at the corner closest to Beckett's building, reiterating – probably for his benefit – that they hadn't seen anyone odd in or around the apartment.

Kate nods, taking her keys back from them. "Thanks, guys."

Both men nod in return. "We'll head back to the diner?"

"Yeah," she agrees. "Check on things there, since we've been gone all day."

"On it, boss."

They watch the pair leave before Kate's fingers close around Rick's elbow, drawing him toward the building's entrance. "Ready to do this?"

"To see your bedroom?" he jokes, watching her shoulders relax with the roll of her eyes. Exactly as he'd hoped. "Is there any question?"

"Uh huh, who says you'll be seeing my bedroom? Maybe I keep my files in the living room? Or in an office?" Her lips curl at the taunt, promising without saying a word that he will most definitely be seeing her bedroom today.

His only response is to grin and allow her to drag him through the doorway and into her apartment lobby.

The elevator is empty when they step on, but still he crowds her as if it were packed, tipping her chin up to press his lips to hers. Her fingers flutter at his sides, finding purchase in the fabric of his jacket as her mouth opens under his.

She exhales when the lift comes to a stop, stealing one more press from his mouth before stepping away.

"Totally going to see your bedroom, Beckett," he murmurs, following her down the hall.

Caught up as he is in watching the sway of her hips, he doesn't notice her stopping short until he collides with her back.

"Kate? What's wro–" he sputters, following her gaze to find a man he recognizes waiting at her door. "Roy?"


	7. Chapter 7

_I say this every single time, but thank you all for your enthusiasm, your wonderful, sweet reviews, and your support for this story. I hope you enjoy this chapter._

 **Chapter Seven**

* * *

Of all the people Rick Castle would've expected to find waiting on Kate Beckett's doorstep, his occasional poker buddy is not one of them.

"Roy, what are you doing here?" he asks, pressing a hand to Kate's hip. She hasn't taken a breath since spying the police captain at her door, and not even his touch drives the tension from her body this time.

"You two know each other?" she whispers, looking between them.

"I, yeah. Roy and I play poker together. Along with the mayor and a judge or two…" he trails off as her face pinches. "How do you know each other?"

"I–"

"Would've been her captain," Roy speaks finally, holding up his hands as a gesture of trust. "And I fought like hell to get you through."

Kate looks away. "What are you doing here, sir? And how did you get in here?"

Years of playing poker with the man have taught Rick a thing or two about Montgomery's tells, and the flinch he attempts to cover is enough to give him pause. He'd sneaked in, that much is obvious. Otherwise Kate's guys would've said they'd seen him.

"Something tells me you're not coming by to invite her back to the force. This isn't a social call, is it?"

Roy looks him over once before turning to Beckett. "We should talk inside."

Rick nods in agreement, but the woman in front of them doesn't move.

"What's this about, Roy?" Kate asks, her voice low, defensive. "If you're here to bust my chops about my work, don't bother. We're a legitimate organization, and we've had no part in anything –"

"It's not about your family's business, Beckett," Roy offers. "I think it's admirable what you're doing, and I'm not here to hassle you over it. Stand down."

She nods after a moment, but the tension doesn't leave her shoulders entirely. If there's one thing Rick has learned over the course of the last few months, it's that surprises that require Kate to relinquish control don't go over well, and Roy Montgomery's arrival is more evidence to that fact.

"Let's talk inside," Castle suggests, gesturing toward the door. "Whatever it is you have to say, it's probably better not to tell the entire hall, right?"

Both heads bob, and Kate closes the distance to her door, slipping her key into the lock without another word.

"Okay," Beckett begins once more, once they're standing in her living room trading quiet, awkward glances. "One more time, what's this about, Roy?"

Montgomery ignores the question, turning to Castle instead. "You know, when you said you were researching with her, I wasn't expecting it to last this long."

Kate whirls on him. "You _told_ him?"

"I… mentioned at poker a couple months ago that I had met someone to observe for a new book. But that was it." His brow furrows. "I never said that it was you, though. How did you –" And then he gets it. Or maybe it's wild conjecture, but he doesn't think so. "Were you having me followed?"

His girlfriend's eyes narrow. "Donnie and his goon? That was you? Why?"

"Watching out for him."

Beckett bristles. "Watching out for him? Because he's with _me_?"

Rick's attention volleys between them, watching Roy's body language as the other man gathers his thoughts.

"Because I had a feeling, and I was right. Clark Murray came to see me the other day, wanted information about one of our recent cases, and it got me thinking. 'Bout the past, about my future," he clears his throat, shifting in place. "You know what I thought the day I met you at the academy?"

It seems like a non sequitur, but Beckett shakes her head anyway, giving him a chance to continue.

"I thought, 'she's going to make one hell of a homicide cop.' And, you know, it was like God himself was offering me the chance to atone for what we'd done."

Kate's spine straightens. "What you'd – sir, are you talking about –"

"You gotta understand, Kate, I was young. I was so young, and when my TOs offered me the chance to make a difference, I took it."

"By murdering my _mother_?" Her voice breaks with the last word, pulling Rick toward her. She won't let him touch her, he knows, but he can be beside her if nothing else.

Montgomery shakes his head, vehement. "No. No, not me, not us. But what we did, she died because of that. Because of us."

"Roy, just… just tell me. What did you do?"

"First I need your promise."

She straightens. "My _promise_? You had something to do with my mother's murder, you've sat on it for years, you watched me get kicked out of the academy, and you want me to promise _you_ something?"

"What I tell you… you use wisely. Your instinct will be to go running straight at it, but you can't. You _can't._ "

Rick watches Kate hesitate, warring with herself, before giving him a firm nod. "Fine. What. Did. You. Do?"

"I was just a rookie then, and Raglan and McCallister got it into their heads that we could clean things up on our own. Back then the families weren't doing what you're doing, Beckett. They were a menace and they weren't going to change."

Rick watches understanding dawn in her eyes. "The kidnappings, the shakedowns… that was you?"

The captain nods. "It helped, for a while, but then he caught on to what we were doing and demanded his cut of the ransom we were collecting, used his influence to –"

"Who?"

Roy ignores her. "He was powerful then, he's even higher up the food chain now."

Rick intervenes at Beckett's keen of frustration. "So this man stepped in and used his influence to cover for you? Cover everything up? For a price, I'm guessing."

"And my mom?" Kate jumps right back into the fray. "Did she find out? Is that why someone was hired to kill her? To leave her to die _alone_ in an alley? Who is this man?"

"Beckett you need to understand –"

"No, I need a _name_. I need to kn-oh!"

Castle had always thought that, in a situation like this, he would have the reflexes of a ninja. That he would know exactly what to do, and barely flinch in the face of it all. Instead, he barely registers what's happening until Kate's shoving him down, shouting for Montgomery's attention, her face twisted in horror as the other man collapses in on himself. That's when it snaps into focus, when everything catches up to him – the crack of glass breaking, the whiz of a bullet spinning past his ear, the thud of Roy landing on the hardwood.

Oh, shit, Roy's been shot. Roy's – shit, oh god.

Beckett scrambles over on her knees, barking an order for him to call nine-one-one then Ryan and Esposito over his insistence to watch for broken glass. His fingers tremble as he dials, but he manages to keep it together long enough to share Beckett's address with the dispatcher, requesting immediate help because his friend has been _shot_.

When he's asked if anyone else is hurt, his eyes search out Kate's. She'd been so close, striding into Montgomery's personal space, when the bullet tore through the window. She could be hit, too.

"I'm fine," she snaps, jamming her hands over Roy's wound, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. "Just him. It was a sniper; they only got him."

Then the blood staining the front of her shirt isn't hers. Relief – such as it is – thuds heavy in his chest.

The moment he's off the phone with emergency services, he's calling Kate's guys. It hasn't been that long since they left, they could still be close enough to find the son of a bitch who'd shot at them, shot at Montgomery to shut him up.

"They're on their way," he breathes, scooting across the floor, unwilling to risk standing up. "Everybody's on their way. How's he doing?"

She shakes her head. "Not good. Come on, sir, talk to me. Keep talking."

Roy swallows hard, his eyes fluttering shut with the effort. "Lis'en."

"We're listening," Rick assures, taking over for Kate, pressing his palm down on Montgomery's chest. The other man's blood is warm under his hand, spilling into the crevices between his fingers, but he doesn't balk, doesn't give in to the bile rising in his throat. "We're listening, Roy."

"'nsurance… Ev, the girls, you too, now. Jacket p-pocket."

"We'll get it. You can explain more when you're better. You're going to be fine, after all. Back to losing to me in poker in no time. You hear me?"

His friend cracks a pained smile, shaking his head. "Not. Goo' try."

Roy's eyes slide to Kate, locking on her. "Beck– so sorry. Damn sorry."

She cracks then, burying her mouth into the crook of her elbow to hide a sob. "Then don't give up. Fix it with us. With me. Stay and fix it."

"Get… key," he pants, somehow still managing to dole out orders from the middle of the floor.

Beckett obeys, fisting a hand in Roy's jacket, digging for the key zipped into the inner pocket. Her fist curls as soon as she makes contact, tucking the object to her chest without even looking at it.

Montgomery nods, sucking in a hitching breath. Castle can only watch as a tear wells in the corner of the other man's eye, skirting down his cheek.

"Safe."

Sirens wail from somewhere beyond the building. Rick doubles the pressure on Roy's wound, pleading silently for him to hang on just a little longer.

It's not enough. Roy Montgomery slips away before the apartment door ever bangs open, before help ever arrives.

* * *

Other than to give her statement to the police when they arrive, Kate hardly says a word for hours. Even Esposito and Ryan's self-recriminations for – in their words – not being thorough enough in their canvas receive little in the way of acknowledgement. Instead she remains silent, back ramrod straight, watching the chaos in her space, watching the cops work to trace the shot's trajectory. Once the detectives and crime scene investigators are gone, she moves through her apartment without a word, gathering the notebooks they had original come to find, still clutching her fist to her chest.

"Kate," he murmurs finally, stepping in her path, reaching out to cup her elbows. His hands catch on the edge of her sleeves, his skin dry from scrubbing Roy's blood away, but he ignores the rasp to keep his attention on her. "Pack a bag, come home with me tonight."

Her head thrashes from side to side. "I'm going back to the diner; I'm going to look over my mom's notes, try to figure out what Montgomery meant by everything."

"You can do that at my place."

"Whoever shot him is probably gunning for me now, too. You want that following you home?"

His head dips. "I already hired another security team. They're going to set up around my loft. And, as we've already established, they're some of the best money can buy."

She hesitates. "Rick, I –"

"Anyone with eyes already knows that I'm involved, that _we're_ involved. A second set of eyes never hurts, and after today…" he trails off, licking his lips. After today, he doesn't want to let her out of his sight for long. The thought of coming to the diner in the morning and finding her dead in her office (or not finding her at all) it's too much. "Look, I'm not going to haul you over my shoulder and carry you back to my cave – unless you're into the idea – but for my own peace of mind… please."

Her shoulders slump. "Just… give me a minute."

Rick nods. "Okay. Good. Do you want me to told the key?" He gestures to her closed fist, touching the back of her hand when she doesn't pull away.

"I'm fine."

"You're not," he argues, slipping his fingers beneath hers. Her hand unfurls against his, pressing the key into his palm. Dried blood cakes her fingernails, highlights the lines of her knuckles, and his stomach lurches at the reminder. "Go wash your hands again, okay?"

"What?" Her brow furrows in confusion, forcing his eyes to indicate downward, far less subtle than he'd like to be about all of this. "Oh. Yeah, okay. I'll be back."

Her breath hitches at the impulsive touch of his lips to her forehead, but she doesn't admonish him for the contact in front of the boys. If anything, she leans into him, daring herself to surrender some of her burdens. She's gone a moment later, already pulling herself together, but he knows he didn't imagine her weariness.

A part of him considers following her into her room, but he hangs back, mindful of Javier and Kevin waiting behind him.

Instead, he turns the key over in his fingers studying its size and shape for some clue to what it unlocks. Roy had said it was insurance, that it would keep people safe, but Rick doubts just having the thing will be enough to keep the wolves at bay.

Kate returns a few minutes later with red-rimmed eyes and hands scrubbed clean pink. He can't help but see that the bag on her shoulder is packed to the brim.

"Okay," she scrapes out, running her hand through her hair. "Let's get out of here."

Rick nods, pocketing the key. The gesture doesn't escape Kate's notice, but she doesn't demand for him to return it to her.

No, she hooks her fingers in the crook of his elbow, drawing him into her space.

"You're sure?" she asks, pinning him with a long stare. "This doesn't have to be your problem, Rick. You can still walk away. I'll make sure you have all the access you need to write your book, regardless of what you do with me after this."

Squaring his shoulders, he shakes his head. Kate's eyes search his, scanning for a trace of reluctance, but he won't budge. It's not just about his book anymore, and he knows they can get this done. Together. Without more bloodshed.

After a moment, she nods. "Your place, then."

* * *

They pour over her mother's notebooks well into the night, speaking only when necessary. With anyone else the silence would chafe, but with her it's comforting to simply have her there, warm at his side as they share his desk.

When her forehead nearly hits the blotter around four, he suggests heading to bed. She's reluctant, of course, stubborn in her conviction to stare at everything until something pops out at her.

"There's gotta be something here. She found out about what Montgomery and the other officers did – he told us as much – so what did she do with that knowledge?"

"The file," he starts, paging through his older notes. "The one Scott – pulled for her. That was the case Roy was talking about, it has to be."

Kate nods. "So maybe whoever pulled the strings can be connected to that case. Somehow."

Rick hides a yawn in his arm. "And he didn't want his involvement in the ransoming scheme to be found out, so he had…"

Her head bobs. "Yeah."

"And the power aspect rules out another cop, I would guess."

"Unless they were or still are at One PP. That's a position you wouldn't want to lose because someone exposed you for being dirty," she exhales the final words, leaning into him.

His hand lifts, fingers stroking the line of her neck. "True. And that would also explain how whoever it is found out what Roy and the others were doing."

"Yeah." She licks her lips. "You know, I remember hearing about the extortion, the kidnappings."

"Was anyone from your family…?"

Her head shakes. "No, no. And none of it made the news, of course, but word traveled between families. I remember my grandmother calling us about it. People were scared. And then it all just stopped, and nobody said another word about it. It was like it never happened."

"Maybe that's what made your mom decide to get involved," he muses, pressing a gentle thumb against the base of her skull, feeling a mewl vibrate through her. "She wasn't involved in their activities anymore, I know, but family is still family."

Kate sinks deeper against him. "They threatened to cut her off when she left, but she did it anyway. And then once I was born, they softened a little bit."

"Sounds like you got your stubbornness from her."

She snorts. "That's what my dad always said, too. It was always 'Katie, you're just like your mother: trying to drive me insane.' Like he wasn't a mule himself."

"Mmm, well, never let it be said that you don't come by it honestly."

"Yeah." She yawns into his shoulder.

"Come on," he rumbles, squeezing her neck. "Let's go to bed, get a couple of hours of shut-eye, then start again when we can see straight. Or when I can see straight, if you're somehow superwoman and still only see one of me at this moment."

He feels the resistance in her posture, but she agrees anyway, unfolding from the chair and stretching the kinks from her long limbs. His hands fall to her hips, rucking her threadbare t-shirt up to smooth across the skin above the waistband of her sleep shorts.

Kate hums, swatting his hands away, only to fold her fingers around his and tug him from his seat.

They stumble into his bedroom together, mouths bumping once before she pads to the bathroom to take care of the rest of her nightly routine. He knows he needs to do the same, to brush his teeth at the very least and rid the lingering taste of their third cup of coffee from his tongue, but the moment his backside hits the mattress, all thoughts of moving disappear.

He falls asleep sideways on his bed, his feet still planted on the floor.

* * *

"Safe!"

Rick jolts awake, groaning at the sharp tug in his back. "Wha? Wha's it?"

"Safe," Kate repeats, her eyes wide in the dark. She pats at his shoulder to force him upright, sliding her hands down his back to ease his new ache. She must have turned him and tucked him in before getting into bed herself, because the covers slip off his chest to pool at his waist. "I was thinking about Montgomery, about the key, and what he said."

Eyes slipping shut, his head lolls forward, but he forces himself to stay awake. "He said it was insurance, that you'd be safe. We'd be safe."

"Yeah," she confirms, pressing her mouth to his arm in subtle apology for disturbing him. "But we were thinking the key was to a locker, or a strong box. It's not. It opens a safe. He wasn't just saying that we would be safe… it _opens_ one, Rick. We just have to find it."


	8. Chapter 8

_I won't keep you from the chapter for too long, but I wanted to make sure I said thank you all once more. You guys are so wonderful to me. I hope you enjoy this chapter._

 **Chapter Eight**

* * *

They visit Evelyn Montgomery the following afternoon.

As Roy's friend, he owes it to the man to check up on the woman who had, on more than one occasion, opened her home to him and Alexis. As one of the last people to see Roy alive, it's necessary for him to try to find something – anything – to say to help make this time make sense.

As someone who needs to snoop through the man's office to look for a safe (and he's the one who's sure it's here, and not the police station where anyone might be able to move it in this time of upheaval), he feels lousy being there. even if it is to ensure the safety of Roy's wife and children, Kate Beckett, and his own daughter, he feels terrible coming to Evelyn under these circumstances.

While he's glad Alexis is in California, a part of him wishes she could be here to sit with Roy's son and daughters to lend her quiet, sweet support. As it is, running on as little rest as he'd managed between Kate's revelation and a series of nightmares, he feels even less than equipped to be there supporting Montgomery's grieving widow than he normally would.

Still, he manages to push his own exhaustion aside and embrace his friend's wife, stroking a hand down Evelyn's back as her shoulders shake.

"I am so sorry," he murmurs, tightening his arms around her for another long moment. Evelyn nods, breathing her thanks into his shoulder before stepping away.

She turns a polite smile in Kate's direction, thanking her for stopping by as well.

"Are you hungry?" Evelyn offers, looking between them. "People have been dropping in all day; friends, work colleagues, so many people bringing food. I don't know that we'll ever manage to eat it all. Even Evan doesn't have much of an appetite right now."

Kate declines quietly, but Rick's chin dips in understanding. "Did Sandy across the street happen to bring over some of that casserole I loved at your last barbeque?"

"Castle!" his girlfriend hisses, looking scandalized by his insensitivity, but he just slips a hand across her back, giving her hip a gentle squeeze. He knows what he's doing.

Sure enough, Evelyn lights up with a quiet laugh, seeming to shed some of the weight from her shoulders.

"I think she did. Come on, I'll make you a plate."

The three of them gather at the kitchen table, huddling in their seats, sipping water as he puts away a plate and a half of neighbor Sandy's delicious macaroni casserole. Roy's wife smiles when he wipes his mouth for the final time and lowers his napkin beside the plate.

"Thank you for that," he says, putting a little extra drama into his groan for the sake of coaxing another small bit of joy from his friend. "Breakfast was hours ago; that hit the spot."

"I'm glad," Evelyn murmurs, lifting her glass to her lips. It returns to the table with a thud. "I'm glad you were with him, when he…"

Rick reaches out, his broad hand dwarfing hers on the table top. "I'm glad we were, too. He –" he stops, searching for a turn of phrase that will comfort her, only to come up empty. "I hate that he's gone, but I'm glad we could be with him."

Glancing over at Kate, he finds her eyes fixed on her hands. Last night she had confessed to him that she had hoped so badly to work for the captain, to be in homicide, to do right by the victims and their families, and the fact that Roy had known all along and had gone against everything that a homicide cop should be was just so hard to reconcile.

He doesn't blame her for being torn.

"His detectives said they're running down every possible lead, but you don't spend almost thirty years as a cop's wife and not know the jargon. That's what they say when they don't expect to find anything," Evelyn continues, shoulders slumping in resignation.

He's not surprised; the shooter had been in the wind long before the cops arrived at Kate's apartment yesterday.

"I wish our statements had been more helpful. Maybe if I'd been paying more attention to the window or," he starts, only to have her shake her head.

"You stayed with him, comforted him. That matters to me. That matters so much."

It doesn't feel like enough, not given how the man died, but he won't argue with her.

"What else can I do? Is there anything you need taken care of? Anything with the arrangements?"

Evelyn shakes her head once more. "You're sweet to offer, but no. Roy had everything planned out, so it's just a matter of following his instructions. The deputy commissioner has already come by and promised that he'll receive full honors for the, for the funeral. His full pension, too."

"That's good," he murmurs, bumping his foot against Beckett's, just to make sure she's still with him. She bumps back, possibly harder than necessary, but he'll take the acknowledgement. "But please let me know if there is anything I can do. Anything at all."

"Of course, Rick."

He nods, squeezing Evelyn's hand once more before retreating. They need to get into the office, he knows, but the words to ask stick in his throat.

"Evelyn," Kate begins finally, once the silence stretches on too long. Her voice is soft, compassionate, exactly the way Rick imagines it would be if she were a homicide detective talking to a victim's family. "I hate asking you this now, but Roy asked us to hold onto this and didn't have the chance to tell us what it opened. By any chance, do you know?"

Her hand opens to reveal the key, shiny now that it's been scrubbed clean of Roy's blood.

Evelyn looks it over, giving them both a short nod. "I think it's the emergency key to the safe in his office. Come with me."

They stand together, and Rick stops to deposit his plate in the sink before following the women down the hall. He steps into Roy's office just behind Kate, pressing his hand to her shoulder. She leans back, bumping against his chest as Roy's wife uncovers the safe from behind a family portrait.

"Let me see that key," Evelyn orders, holding out a hand. "I'm pretty sure this is what you're looking for."

Kate steps forward, dropping the key into the other woman's palm. He sees her body lift with her inhale, with the breath she sucks into her lungs to avoid being overcome by her desire to have all the pieces fall into place, and he holds his breath as well. Please let this be the right safe. Please let it be this easy.

Sure enough, as soon as Evelyn slides the key into the lock and gives it a turn, the safe door pops open. Both he and Kate step forward as she swings it back, peering inside.

"I opened it up earlier to look for some paperwork, but I wasn't really paying attention so everything's a little out of order. If there's something he wanted you to have, it would be in here – ah."

She pulls a thick envelope from the wall, turning to offer it to him. "It's addressed to you, Rick."

Kate reaches for it on his behalf, taking it with careful fingers and pressing it to her chest. "Thank you."

Evelyn nods, her dark eyes appraising them both. "I'm glad I was able to find it for you."

"I am, too," he says, trying to ignore the thought that he'd just duped a friend.

They only stay for half an hour longer, departing when another trio of Montgomery's friends arrive to express their condolences. Rick hugs Mary and Rebecca tightly, promising at their insistence to bring Alexis by when she returns from California, and shakes Evan's hand as the teenager thanks them for coming. Remorse gnaws deep in his belly, but he reminds Roy's eldest that he'll be there if they need anything.

His fingers curl around Kate's as they step outside. She's still holding the file to her chest, hidden underneath her jacket, her forearm locking it in place as if someone may take it from her.

"Home or the diner?" he asks once he's settled behind the wheel of his car, but no answer comes. "Kate?"

Kate looks up, her eyes flashing with what he thinks is guilt over being caught staring at the envelope. "What? Oh, diner. The diner. I need to be at work, even if it's only for a few hours."

He nods, understanding what she means; they both need a chance to center themselves.

"Diner it is."

* * *

She insists on taking care of her responsibilities first, but it takes all of an hour for the aching need to know overrun the desire to wait. Almost as one, they slap their pens down and look at the file Kate had deposited at the far end of her desk. Wordlessly, he stands, reaching for her empty coffee mug and moving to the Keurig in the corner; if they're doing this now, they need coffee.

Once the mugs are full and waiting on her desk, he pulls his chair around to put them side by side. Her fingers twitch, ready to breach the seal on the envelope, and he gives her a small nod when he's ready.

"Moment of truth."

"Let's hope so," she breathes, closing her fingers around her letter opener and making the first slice.

After she extracts a stack of documents maybe an inch thick, he takes the legal envelope from her, studying Roy's messy scrawl. He'd been in a hurry. He must have known there was an almost certainty that he wouldn't be able to deliver this information himself, sniper or no. Otherwise he wouldn't have brought the key along instead.

He'd been trying to atone; the only way he knew how.

"Is there a note?" he asks, glancing into the envelope to be sure.

Kate's head shakes. "No, just the files. I think he knew you would know what to do with them," she murmurs. Her lips twitch as she adds, "All those guys you know, and all."

"Funny," he retorts, feeling his lips turn upward anyway. If she needs to tease him to help herself, he'll take it. "But, you are right," he continues, watching her open the file to study the first page. "I do know people, the right people. CIA, New York courts, Hamptons PD –"

"Rick? Shut up," she croaks, lifting wide eyes to his.

His own gaze slides to the top page, to the photo of Johanna Beckett slumped against an alley wall. Right. The time for joking has passed.

"Sorry," he says, covering her hand with his. She squeezes back, taking a moment to breathe before she slides her hand away and turns the page with shaking fingers.

They read in silence, trading only the occasional murmur when a detail that corroborates something they already know catches their eye.

He can feel her growing more agitated with each page, with every piece of evidence they uncover, but still she continues on, pushing deeper into the pile.

"Do you want to take a break?" he asks after a while, making another note on his handwritten timeline.

Her head thrashes. "No. No, we need to keep going. There's a name in here, I know there is. Because he wouldn't put so much damning information about himself, Raglan, and McCallister if he wasn't going to name who was yanking their chain as well."

"Okay," he agrees. "We'll keep looking. But I do think we should break sometime soon, even if it's just for a plate of fries; I'm hungry and you have to be raveno–"

"Babe, stop," she commands, oblivious to the way the term of endearment – actual affection, not used in mockery – rockets through him. "Look at this."

She shows him the photo at the top of a dossier.

"William Bracken? The senator?"

She nods, lowering the paper once again. "It says here he was Assistant DA before he suddenly made the leap to Congress. That would track with what Montgomery said about their kidnapping ring being found out by someone powerful. Someone whose power has only grown."

His head bobs in return, encouraging her to continue as he looks through a stack of smaller papers they had put aside a few minutes earlier. "The bank statements we saw earlier; how much do you want to bet _this_ is the evidence of the three of them paying him to keep quiet?"

He lifts a deposit receipt, one of many in the pile, to show her. Kate snatches it from him, studying the slip with a wary eye.

"It's not enough," she concludes, and the hopeful lift of his shoulders collapses.

"What? How?"

Scrubbing a hand through her hair, she flops back into her seat.

"It's all circumstantial. Every last bit of it."

"Because the payments could be for anything," he supplies, deflating beside her.

She nods, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. "His lawyer will argue they're campaign contributions – steady ones, but still contributions – and there's no evidence of wrongdoing. And _if_ we managed to make anything deeper stick, it would be mishandling of funds, bribery, maybe extortion. Not murder or hiring someone to do it for him."

"So what do you want to do?" he asks, looking between her and the file. "Do you… want to have someone just… take care of it? I mean, you _have_ the connections to –"

"Put a hit out on a US Senator?" she bites out, turning hardened eyes his way. "Would you be able to look at me the same way if I did?"

The yes rises in his throat without hesitation, but she cuts him off before his answer has the chance to make it past his lips,

"Because I wouldn't. I would see his blood on my hands, I would see how badly I had failed my mom by becoming someone she never wanted to be associated with, I would see someone I never wanted to be. I want him to be punished so badly I can taste it," her voice cracks, "but not that way."

Her chest heaves with her final words and he watches tears pool in her eyes, but they go unshed.

He backs down first, breaking their silent standoff. "Okay, then we keep going. This file was supposed to keep us all safe, so it would have to be enough to scare him, right? Which means there has to be more in here, the key to it all, we just have to find it."

She nods again, allowing herself to exhale once before burying her fatigue and her disappointment and going back to their work.

They're nearing the end of the file when she curses. "There's not enough to get a conviction here. It proves Bracken's shady, but not enough to overshadow everything else he's done for the city and the state. No grand jury would agree to look deeper."

"But it's enough to keep him from retaliating against you right now," he tries.

She whirls on him, nostrils flaring in frustration. "That's not good enough. Not for me, not anymore."

His chin lowers under the heat of her glare, but he stands his ground this time. "It doesn't have to be good enough forever, Kate. It could just be for right now."

"No. I'm not giving up that easily. You can if you want; it's not your fight, I don't blame you if you do. You'll still be under my protection as long as you want it. But you can go if this is your stopping point."

Cupping her chin, he halts her words with the hard press of his mouth. "The hell it's not my fight. Look, I'm not giving up," he rasps, scraping his teeth over her lower lip, ignoring her answering grunt to continue, "I'm trying to buy us time before that sniper comes back and tries to take you out, too."

Her breath hitches, hands coming up to fist in his shirt, belying her casual dismissal to keep him close. The touch makes him brave, makes his chest crack open, and a confession he's felt building for months comes tumbling out.

"Because in case it's escaped your notice, I'm – shit, Kate – I'm in love with you, and I do not want you to die."

Yanking away, she gapes at him, eyes the size of saucers. He doesn't take it back, though, he won't.

"I love you, Kate," he presses. "And this _is_ my fight, too. Four and a half months ago we made it my fight. And if you want to keep going, I will keep going with you, but not at the expense of your life."

Her mouth opens, but no sound makes it past her vocal cords before her jaw clenches shut.

"I'm going to get more coffee, then we can figure out what to do. But I'm not going anywhere."

His lips smear across her forehead before he stands, swallowing back the swell of disappointment. She doesn't have to love him back, not yet, not ever, but he would be lying if he hadn't hoped…

"Wait. Castle, wait." She jumps to her feet, knocking her hip into her desk hard enough to send her elephant parade teetering. Rick pauses, watching her hide her hiss. That's going to leave a bruise, one he has every intention of kissing better later, provided she allows him the opportunity.

"Say it again," she insists, her chest heaving with the directive. "Tell me again."

He steps closer, reaching out to frame her hips with his hands.

"I love you."

She inhales sharply, lifting onto her toes to touch her mouth to his. "Again," she orders.

"I love you," he breathes, painting the message over her lips. Her mouth moves with the words, though he can't be sure if it's an echo for his sake or a way of committing them to memory.

"I love you, Kate," he repeats, pulling her hips tighter against his. "And I just want to keep you safe."

She leans into him a little more. "I know. I know. But am I really safe if we reach some kind of stalemate with him? Are you? Is Alexis?"

"I don't know. But are we safer if we try to go straight at him?"

Her head shakes. "I don't know. But… tell me again?"

Dropping his forehead to hers, he whispers he loves her once more. "I can make a voice memo if you'd like. Then you can hear it as often as you –"

Her fingers curl around his ears, mouth bruising his in a kiss. "I love you, too. And not just because I just realized what we're missing."

His lips turn up. She loves him, too.

Wait, what they're missing?

Kate turns without bothering to dislodge his hands from her hips, rifling through the file to find an earlier page. "Roy mentioned a recording in one of his notes. A recording about a case. Which means it's connected. But obviously it's not here."

"Right," he agrees, fighting through the euphoria of knowing his affection, his passion, isn't one-sided to focus on their mission.

"So where is it?"

"In another file?" he suggests, only to have her shake her head.

"My mom. That was the case she was working, the reason Bracken had them all killed, it has to be. What if Montgomery gave her the recording?"

Her voice lifts higher with every word, falling from her lips almost faster than he's able to follow, but he nods.

"It's not with any of her things at my place, and if it had been on her when she died, Bracken wouldn't have needed to strike whatever bargain he had with Montgomery to maintain the status quo. So that means it's out there. And if we find that…"

"Then maybe we find the proof we need to take him down."

Kate nods, planting a sloppy kiss on his mouth. It's an awkward angle, their teeth bump and clash, but she's already moving away before he can make an adjustment. "My dad put a lot in storage, but I have some more of her things here. Her trinkets. That hand-carved box on the shelf over there, the elephants. Stuff like that. Help me look?"

Castle nods, sliding his hands down her sides once more. "Just tell me where to start."


	9. Chapter 9

_Thank you all for being wonderful._

 **Chapter Nine**

* * *

"It's not here."

Between business calls and diner-related distractions, it has taken them an hour to get to this point. They've looked all over the office, rifling through the filing cabinets and in the trinket box, even thumbing through each of the books Kate had proclaimed to be her mother's favorites (though it was a long-shot that one would have a hidden compartment in the first place), only to come up empty. Frustration rolls off of Kate in waves, the vein on her forehead standing out against otherwise smooth skin.

"Do you think it's in storage? If you tell me where the unit is, I can go look? I'll even bring everything back here if you want."

"I'm pretty sure the stuff in storage is mostly clothing, purses. She wouldn't have hidden it there."

"Or maybe that's why she chose to put it there? Because it's not somewhere people would look?"

His girlfriend runs a hand through her hair. "And if we had donated those things? Would she risk it getting lost like that?"

"She probably didn't expect to not –" he cuts himself off, watching her face start to crumble. "I'm sorry. That was out of line."

Pulling herself together, Kate licks her lips. "No, no you're right. She probably didn't expect to die as she pursued this. She could have put it in a jacket or a purse and intended to go back for it later."

Rick nods. "Like discovering money in your pocket."

Her mouth twists upward, the smile wry rather than happy, but he'll take it. "Yeah, just like that. Only instead of a twenty, it's proof of a murder."

"Well, there is that, yeah."

Her mirth is short lived; her smile fades as she slumps back against the edge of her desk. "What do I do?" she asks, lifting tired eyes to his.

Stepping into her space, he lifts her hands, stroking sure circles over her knuckles. "We take a break, have something to eat, and then I'll go over to your storage unit to grab as much as I can and bring it back here."

She nods, lowering her chin. "Okay, I'll give you the key."

"Kay. Food first," he insists, squeezing her hands. "I'll get it."

Kate shakes her head, straightening up. "No, I'll get it. I need to check on things out there anyway."

She doesn't seem enthused with the idea, but she pulls away, squaring her shoulders on her way out of her office.

Once he's sure she's gone, Rick slumps into the spot Kate had vacated, crossing his arms and tucking his chin against his chest. They need to find that recording, today if possible. Another night spent worrying about a sniper coming for Kate – or for him – will be too much.

Part of him wants to call Alexis, just to hear his little girl's voice, but he can't bring her into this because of a selfish need for comfort. Instead he takes advantage of the quiet in the office to shut his eyes.

"I'm back. You didn't tell me what you wanted, so I got you your usua– you okay?"

Jolting, he drops his hands to the desk to keep from falling over.

"What? Oh yeah, yeah. I'm okay." He smiles, feeling it strain his cheeks. "My usual is great. Thanks, Kate."

She steps up, putting the baskets aside to brush her fingers over his cheeks. "You should get some rest, Rick."

"I'm okay."

She pins him with a look. "You didn't get much sleep last night."

"You got less than I did," he counters, splaying a hand at her back to keep her close. Her nearness helps.

When she doesn't argue, he busses a kiss across her cheek and stands. "We'll sleep when we find this tape."

Her hips bump his, mischief springing to life in her eyes. "More than sleep."

"See, told you you'd enjoy having me be your boy toy."

That earns him a small smile, one he can't help but taste.

"Not my boy toy, Castle," she hums, rubbing her nose against his. "Now sit, eat."

They settle behind her desk together, chairs pulled close enough for her knees to nudge his thighs when she draws her legs into her seat. Truthfully, his appetite has fled, but he eats for her, taking careful bites to make the burger easier to swallow.

"Hey," she starts, nudging him out of his contemplation. "You're miles away."

"Sorry," he breathes, offering her a soft attempt at a smile. "I just wanted to see if there was something we'd missed. Something we could see from this vantage point."

"Oh." She sweeps the room with careful eyes before turning back to him. "Anything?"

He shakes his head. "No. I think I managed to put my hands on everything in here."

She snickers, turning her face into his shoulder. He gasps, curling his fingers around her knee.

"Katherine Beckett, you have a filthy mind."

"You love it."

He hums, delight curling in his belly. "Well, that I can't argue with."

"Mmm." She takes another fry, licking the salt from her fingers once it's gone. Tease. "You know, I felt guilty when I first took her things out of storage."

Rick's thumb slides over the side of her kneecap. "Why?"

He pitches forward, leaning across her desk to lift the ceramic elephants from the mahogany surface. He's careful with them, knowing without needing to be told that they're just as precious to Kate as they probably were to her mother.

"Because they were her things? Because I was bringing them here?"

He shakes his head. "They were hers, yeah, but that means you brought part of her with you. There's nothing to feel guilty over."

Her fingers slip over the figurines, the touch delicate, reverent. "She used to say that they were a family just like the three of us. I wanted to keep that with me."

"She would've been proud of you for it. For wanting that connection."

Kate exhales. "Thanks."

Rick's index finger joins hers, brushing the largest elephant's ear. "When I was a kid, I decided that elephants would make great spies."

The woman at his side laughs. "What? Why?"

"I'd just read _Casino Royale_ , and I was on a spy kick."

She hums and he knows she's no doubt tucking that information away for later. "So what makes them great spies?"

"Their ears. Perfect for gathering secrets."

Her lips lift, her smile tender for his ten-year-old self. "That's really sweet. Spy elephants."

"And no one would expect them, because they're so calm and unassuming."

Kate's head tilts, her brow furrowing. "No one would expect them," she repeats.

"Right. But they would know everything."

She yanks the elephants out of his hands, turning the statue over, staring it down.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"It's here. It has to be. Nobody would look at the elephants twice, but they'd hear everything, they'd know everything," she murmurs, smoothing her hand over their backs.

His eyes widen. "She hid the tape with them," Rick concludes, watching her head bob in agreement. "My secret compartment idea was right!"

"Does it count if you thought it was in a book?" she drawls, looking up just long enough to lift an eyebrow.

"If we find this tape? Absolutely." His hands join hers in searching for a latch or a groove that will tell them they've hit pay dirt. Their fingertips bump, colliding at the largest elephant's saddle, feeling it give just a bit.

"Here," Kate breathes, prying the figurine open to reveal the cassette tape nestled within. "Holyshit, it's here."

* * *

After that, everything shifts into high gear.

They debate for almost an hour over what to do, who to trust, who they can take this to that will take them seriously. She doesn't trust the NYPD – with good reason – and despite having more contacts at the CIA, he knows they're not the proper avenue. It leaves only one option. A friend at the FBI. She doesn't love it, he knows, but it's as good a compromise as they're going to get.

Kate sits stoic at his side as he makes the call, waiting in silence for the moment Tim asks to speak to her.

"This is Beckett." She straightens in her seat, as if Tim Snyder can see her over the speakerphone.

"You understand that you're making serious allegations about a member of the United States Congress?" Tim repeats, as if she hadn't heard him the first time.

"I do. I also have proof in front of me, given to us by NYPD Captain Roy Montgomery before he died from a gunshot wound at the hands of a sniper no doubt hired by Senator Bracken."

Her voice is all flint and steel, no trace of the warmth Rick's grown so accustomed to over the last months.

"And," she continues before Tim has the chance to speak. "I'm aware that my previous history with the NYPD, my current… employment, and the fact that one of the victims was my mother all make me seem unreliable. That's why I asked Mr. Castle to be the one to go on record."

"I see."

Rick brushes his thumb across her knuckles. "We'll turn over the evidence, Tim, let you see it for yourself before you act." After they make copies of everything, of course. Just to be safe. "But for the sake of security, we'd prefer to make the exchange in person."

Tim hums over the line. "If it were anyone else making this request, I would tell them to pound sand, you know. But for you, Rick, I'll get on the last flight out of DC. I'll be there by midnight."

"Perfect. Come to Sal's Diner when you get in. Lower East Side."

The call ends a few seconds later, leaving them sitting side by side in silence.

Hours later, nervous energy (and a need for propriety, since Esposito almost got an eyeful) has forced them to retreat from Kate's office. Even at midnight, the diner is still boisterous and loud, which makes it all the more unnerving when Tim steps in and the room falls silent. For all of Kate's efforts to steer the family away from their traditional work, there's still a long-standing distrust for those who carry themselves like cops, and the FBI agent who just walked in is no exception.

Castle makes a note to ask Ryan and Esposito how they managed to shake the wariness and stares from some of the diner's regulars. Although, maybe he should ask Kate, because right now, the guys are giving him similar looks for bringing an outsider – a Fed, at that – to their place.

Dropping his hand from Beckett's thigh, he scoots out of the booth and strides to the front of the restaurant.

"Tim! Buddy," he emphasizes, making a point for the observers. They may not like him enough to extend their trust to someone he IDs as his friend, but he gives it his best shot anyway. "It's been too long."

Tim's lips turn up, the smile closer to cynical than earnest, but his old research contact accepts the hug he offers, slapping his back in return. "Good to see you, Ricky. Always knew you would do crazy things for a pretty girl, but this takes the cake."

Rick laughs. "Tell me about it. But the universe works in mysterious ways, Timmy. Come, I'll introduce you, get the ball rolling. After what happened to Montgomery, we're both ready to get this done."

Tim nods, following him to the back. Kate breaks off mid-sentence – mid-apology for leaving her friends out of the loop about the tape and the file – sliding from the booth to offer her hand.

"Agent Snyder. Good to meet you."

"You too, Ms. Beckett."

Kate nods, turning to the boys. "These are my associates, Kevin Ryan and Javier Esposito. We appreciate you coming on such short notice."

Tim nods to them both. "Nice to meet you both."

They parrot it back without any true sincerity, turning their glares on Castle.

Tim notices, of course, but claps his hands instead of addressing it. "I imagine you're all eager to get this over with, so shall we?"

Kate nods, inviting Esposito and Ryan to join them. They aren't particularly eager about doing so, but they nod in spite of their own feelings, standing to flank her.

"Get you some food, Tim?" Rick offers. "You haven't lived until you've had one of the burgers here."

He knows Tim probably has no interest in food, but the other man nods anyway. If nothing else, it's a show of good faith and good intentions. A sign that the agent isn't here to jam anybody up.

"That'd be great. You know what they're serving on the shuttle these day? Crackers so dry, you might as well be eating cardboard."

"Well in that case, one juicy, delicious burger and a basket of fries, coming right up." Castle steps aside, brushing his fingers along Kate's back as she passes him. "And a milkshake for you," he adds, watching her tiny nervous smile bloom into something far more genuine.

Her hand catches his, giving his fingers a quick squeeze before she releases him and leads the charge to the back of the diner.

They're deep in discussion when he slips into the office, the burger tray in one hand and Kate's milkshake in the other. She seems to be taking Tim through the file, making her case in person and bringing the boys up to speed at the same time. Castle notes that her friends' expressions are still stormy, but at least some of the defensiveness has left their posture.

Kate takes the drink from his hand, murmuring quiet thanks before picking up exactly where she left off. Rick nods in agreement a few times, but doesn't interrupt. His input isn't necessary; her passion, her fire, it's enough to make the right impression.

Instead he watches the agent's face, trying to gauge what his old friend is thinking. Tim's eyes widen at times, but otherwise he remains stoic, nodding just once at the end of her statement.

"And the tape you mentioned?"

Rick nods, skirting the edge of Beckett's desk to retrieve the cassette player from the top drawer. His finger hovers over the button, surveying the room. Esposito shifts his weight, crossing his arms over his chest as if he's bracing himself for another impact. Maybe he is. Ryan does the same, and it's a reminder that he also bears the weight of what they've just heard.

They had admired Montgomery, too. Roy had been one of their mentors during their time at the NYPD, and to have this thrown at them…

"Rick," Kate murmurs, taking a long pull from her milkshake before putting it aside and wiping her palms on her jeans. "Just do it."

He hits play.

* * *

 _A/N: I know I said the story would be 10 chapters total, but this chapter ended up longer than I expected, and upon further reflection (and a twitter poll to validate my decision), I opted to split it in two. I hope you'll all stick with me until the end, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!_


	10. Chapter 10

_I won't make you all wait - I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thank you for being fantastic._

 **Chapter Ten**

* * *

When they reconvene at the diner the next morning, Tim brings up a safe house. He describes it as a precaution, a way for the FBI to keep track of him and Beckett should things get ugly. More specifically in case Bracken gets wind of the case being built against him and lashes out for one last, desperate power grab.

Rick frowns, looking between his girlfriend and his old friend.

"I'm – I mean, obviously I'm not opposed to being safe, but protective custody sounds a lot like witness protection. A new identity, a new place to live; starting over. And in case you didn't notice, I have a pretty good life here. I have a _daughter_ , and I can't just leave her behind."

Tim shakes his head, opening his mouth to explain, but Kate jumps in first.

"Castle, it's not like that," she assures, ignoring their audience to slip her hand over the back of his neck, pressing her thumb against one of the knots stress has created, soothing his growing discontent. "It's just a safe house where they can keep an eye on things. They can't do that if we're walking around in a city with millions of people."

"I get that, I do, but what about Alexis? I'm not just going to take off without her. Or leave her with her mother."

He watches Kate share a look with the agent before she turns back to him. "So we wait for Alexis to get back, then we'll go. You need to finish your book anyway, don't you? It'll be a good time for you to do that. Fewer distractions."

Rick nods, giving himself a moment to process the proposal. "Yeah, I do."

She nods, her lips turning up just enough to show him she's pleased with the concession. "Yeah, you do. You're never going to convince me to like that terrible name if you don't."

He puffs a laugh, trying to find the humor she's offering. "That's true."

"Okay, so it's settled then; Alexis comes home, we go."

Finally, his brain catches up. "We? You're coming with us?"

Her shoulder lifts toward her ear. "Agent Snyder thinks it's the best idea. You're the one who's going on record, but given that it was my apartment Roy was killed in… we both know I'm a target, too."

"Thought you would want to stay and fight off anyone who comes?" he murmurs, careful not to look in Tim's direction.

Kate snorts, squeezing his neck just hard enough to tell him he'd pegged her first impulse.

"I do, but I figure the only way to keep you out of trouble is to go with you, so," she trails off, dropping her hand back into her lap. "When do you fly out to get her?"

"At the end of the week. Fly out Friday, come back Saturday. We get in late."

Tim nods, jumping back into the conversation. "That's fine. Waiting until she gets back will be better. You can use the excuse of taking a trip together, wanting to get away. That will arouse less suspicion than simply disappearing would."

He nods. "And I do sometimes whisk her away after she gets back from her mom's."

Beside him, Kate smiles. "Of course you do."

"Good, so it's not out of character either." Tim nods. "I'll come back to New York to be part of your escort, so it will be clear that the operation is legit."

Both he and Kate look over. "You think he would arrange for fake agents?" he asks.

"Possibly. Or, given his status, he could have people in the bureau on his payroll. So I'll be choosing my team carefully. Coming back to escort you is an extra safeguard."

Rick nods, attempting to subdue another wave of uneasiness in his chest. "Right."

"Look, this is huge. Taking down a senator is huge. The more protected you are, the better. Alright?"

"Yeah, of course. It's just a lot to digest."

"I know," his friend assures, looking around the room before turning his attention on Ryan and Espo. "And you two are going to keep an eye on things here?"

They don't like the idea and they haven't been shy about telling everyone that, but both men nod.

"Yeah, we're taking care of things around here. Gotta keep the business running while the boss is on vacation with her boyfriend." The tease is a little more biting than normal, but Beckett still drops her head, her cheeks flushing pink.

"Right," Tim hums, glancing at Beckett. "The family –"

"Has left the business." Her head lifts, eyes blazing once more. "And if you check into me, which I'm sure you will because it'll be the first thing Bracken's lawyers do in an attempt to discredit us, you'll find that we're running a clean operation. I can't do anything about the reputation that my family has gained over the years, besides try to change it, and I'm making every effort to do so. Ryan and Esposito are managers in my stead. Nothing more sinister than that."

Snyder doesn't quite look convinced, but he nods nonetheless.

"In that case, nothing to worry about here."

Not about that, anyway.

* * *

William Bracken is arrested just over three weeks later.

There's a TV on the counter in the kitchen of their safe house. Every morning since the day they arrived, Kate has turned it on in hopes of catching a news story that corroborates Tim's assurances that things are happening and the ball is rolling. Twenty-three mornings in a row, she's hit the power button and brought the television to life. Twenty-three mornings in a row, she has been disappointed.

He hates watching her shoulders slump each day. So much so that he's made it his unofficial mission to distract her. Some mornings he does so with coffee, some mornings it's neck kisses and dancing. He's even made the offer of quickie counter sex a couple of times. Some days he's successful in taking her mind off their situation, some days he isn't.

"Rick," Kate hisses this time, nudging her elbow into his gut to bring an end to his amorous diversions. "Castle, look."

Lifting his head, he understands the urgency in her voice.

Instead of another boring, small town news report, the ancient CRT has popped to life on this Tuesday morning to a wide "breaking news" banner and live footage of ten men and women in suits, flanked by DC police officers, marching into Bracken's press conference. Agent Tim Snyder leads the charge.

If the sight of the man didn't make his blood boil, Castle would be impressed by how calm Bracken is. Aside from an initial stutter, the senator doesn't hesitate to continue his remarks on whatever falsely altruistic initiative he's peddling this time. It's only when Tim interrupts, requesting for him to stand, that he grows agitated.

"What's all this about? If you call my office, I'd be happy to cooperate with whatever investigation you're working, Agent."

Tim ignores him. "I'm afraid I can't do that. Please turn around and put your hands behind your back."

Bracken sputters. "This is outrageous, unprofessional – do you understand what you just interrupted?"

Rick watches the corners of his friend's lips twitch.

"To be honest with you, Senator, I wasn't really paying attention when you started. Regardless, it's not my concern. William Bracken, you are under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder, extortion, and misappropriation of campaign finances."

"This is _absur_ –"

"We have the tape, the receipts for the blackmail payments, and when we subpoenaed your bank records, we located payments to the two hitmen you hired. Nice try, routing them through several off-shore accounts, but we're very good. So, I think it's best if you save your stories for one of your overpriced lawyers."

With that, Snyder leads Bracken away. Castle watches the dumbstruck reporter gape into the camera. He sees her hand clench around her microphone before she recovers, finding her voice to summarize the unprecedented event that had just occurred.

They did it.

Kate exhales, sagging against him, trusting him to keep her from sinking to the floor. Her shoulders hitch on her next inhale, her fingers clenching against his forearm as she fights to keep herself together. He can only hold her tighter, try to keep his breathing as even as possible in hopes that it will help keep hers steady.

"Kate," he murmurs, pressing his mouth to the crown of her head, smoothing his hand over her arm as her body trembles. "Let it out. Just let it out."

She cants sideways, burying her face against his bicep, allowing his t-shirt to absorb the evidence of her distress.

"You got him," Rick promises, swiping his thumb over her belly. "You got him. He's going away for a long time. Forever. He's going away forever."

Her breath catches, coming in shorter and shorter puffs against his skin.

"Hey, hey, breathe, honey. Breathe with me." He pulls her in tighter, hoping she can feel the steady thud of his heart against her back. "Just breathe."

It takes some time, but eventually she's able to nod, to match her breathing to his as her tears slow. Her lips move against his arm, but the words are silent.

"You got him," he repeats, lifting his eyes to find the news looping the video of the cuffs going on Bracken's wrists. "You got him, Kate. You did it."

"We got him," she corrects, swiping at her cheeks. Her hand falls, fingers slotting between his. "Nobody would've talked to me without you. All they saw was my family, their reputation, but with you… we got him."

"Got who?"

Maybe it's the early hour, maybe it's just their shot nerves, but they both jump at his daughter's entrance. Kate's the first one to recover, holding out her hand to the girl in greeting while he finds the power button on the TV and forces it to go dark.

"Morning, Alexis," Kate murmurs.

"Morning," Alexis echoes around a yawn, padding over to bump her head against Rick's hip. "Who'd you get? Did you play another trick on somebody?"

Chuckling in spite of himself, he cups the back of her head. "No, sweetie. We helped the police catch the man who hurt Kate's mom."

"And Roy," Kate adds, thumbing the webbing between his index finger and his thumb. She had been the one who wanted to tell his daughter the whole story – somewhat abridged for young ears, of course – as soon as they arrived at the safe house, and he's grateful for it now. Now they don't have to get into everything and force her to dredge up painful emotions once more.

Alexis nods, looking between them. "That means he's going to jail, right? And he's not going to hurt anybody else?"

"Right," he rumbles, brushing his knuckles over her cheek. "And it means we'll probably be going home soon, so let's start planning how we're going to smuggle back all of the berries we've picked without the FBI telling us no."

His daughter giggles, slipping her arms around his waist, curling her fist in Kate's sleep shirt to bring her in for an impulsive group hug. Beckett presses closer, relaxing into their embrace.

"Kay Dad. M'glad you helped."

"Me too, pumpkin. Me too."

Kate echoes the sentiment into his t-shirt, tightening her grip on his hand.

Squeezing back, he takes a moment to breathe, to allow the terror and worry to untangle from his spine and slip onto the floor. It's not over; they still have the trial, the backlash, the court of public opinion, but they've made it this far, and they'll keep going.

"And," Alexis continues, pulling him from his contemplation, "I think we should have blueberry happy face pancakes for breakfast."

Kate laughs, shifting in his arms, turning her cheek to his chest. "You did promise to make them for me sometime."

"That is absolutely correct, I did make that promise. And I will make good on it today. Fantastic idea, daughter."

Alexis beams, squeezing him once more before her arms fall away. "Great! I'm going to read my book; call me when they're ready!"

She scampers off before he has the chance to protest or insist that she stay to help them.

"Mmm, she played you," Kate hums, lifting her eyes to his. Grief still lurks deep in her irises, but the darkness has lessened to a gentle shadow. He intends to keep it that way.

The sigh he heaves is entirely for show. "She's a master at it."

His girlfriend's lips curl even higher and he can't help but dip his head to taste her mouth, the lingering salt of her tears, the sweetness of her first sip of coffee. Kate murmurs his name, rising onto her toes, bumping her nose against his in her haste to press closer.

Her breath turns ragged once more, needy puffs into his own mouth, and he gentles the kiss, coasts his hands up her back to steady them both. There will be time for the rest later, for now he's content to bask in the opportunity to keep her close.

Rick sways with her, a clumsy half-dance in the middle of the kitchen. "I love you."

In the insanity of the past few weeks, he's been careful not to overwhelm her with more emotion, instead whispering the words into her skin at night and showing her with his presence alone. But he can't contain them any longer.

Kate sniffs again, palming the back of his head, bringing his mouth to hers again. "I love you, too," she whispers, taking another kiss from him, then another. "Thank you for staying, even when I…"

Even when she gave him every opportunity to leave, even when she encouraged the idea of them going their separate ways and living their lives as if they had never met.

As if he could ever go back to a life without her in it.

Pressing their foreheads together, he manages to find his voice once more, promising,

"Always."

* * *

 _A/N: One more to go - the epilogue will be posted this weekend. Thank you all for all of the love you've given this fic and for all of the love you've given me._


	11. Chapter 11

**Epilogue**

* * *

As they slip from one path to another, heading deeper into Central Park, his fingers twitch in hers. For the most part, he's been silent the entire way, content to follow her lead, but after they pass two of their usual stops without so much as a second glance, he has to know.

"Okay, where are you taking me?"

Kate tosses her hair – already so much longer than it had been the day they met ten months ago – over her shoulder, the corners of her mouth turning up at his inquiry.

"Thought you liked surprises, Castle," she teases, not waiting for an answer before she steps into his space to smudge her lips across his. "Trust me."

"I do," he promises, feeling her smile widen at his words, the less-than-subtle reminder of the day last week when he had dropped onto one knee on the concrete outside her apartment and asked her to spend the rest of her life with him.

They're getting married.

"Mhmm, so just relax. I'm not leading you astray." Her fingers brush his chin, smoothing over a nick he hadn't been able to avoid when he shaved earlier. "I don't know any good places to hide a body in the park anyway."

His fake huff only makes her smile widen. They both have an odd fondness for gallows humor – something about being a writer and an almost-cop, he's sure – but it's obvious the jokes are benign. In spite of her family, in spite of the pain she has endured, Kate Beckett's heart is sweet and hopeful and good. Her actions each day showcase that.

He had stood at her side as she had announced her business decisions to her family. By the middle of next year, the transformation within the Sarto organization will be final. As expected, there had been resistance from some at first; complaints from an uncle so old Rick hadn't been sure the man would live to see the end of the meeting, and a cousin who whined about the family losing its edge. But in the end, Kate had made one thing clear: they were not organized crime thugs, not anymore and never again. For herself and for her mother, that would not be their legacy.

"Yeah, yeah. You bosses always get others to do your dirty work," he retorts, tripping his fingers down her side.

It's still fairly warm for early November, especially today, but she shivers at the touch, her body drifting closer to his.

"Me? But you're so good at doing dirty work, baby," she drawls, allowing her eyes to sink toward his waistband. He suppresses a shiver of his own.

"Not cool, Beckett. Not cool doing that while we're in public and I can't do anything about it."

She barks another laugh, stepping out of his grasp to tug him along, around a gaggle of people taking pictures.

"You may think it's especially mean once we get where we're going," she singsongs, grinning over her shoulder.

He can't help but whine. How is she so good at tormenting him?

"Will you at least give me a hint? Are we staying in the park or cutting through?"

Her fingers tighten around his as the crowd grows around them. "Staying in."

Well that's one clue. And the fact that they hadn't eaten before leaving the diner is probably another one.

"Are we having lunch here?" he asks, testing the theory.

She hums in confirmation, turning her sun-warmed cheeks toward him.

"I know it's kind of touristy, but I thought it might be fun. I made reservations."

Rick grins, leaning over to steal a kiss from her lips. "It will be fun."

Her cheeks darken, telling him she's pleased. "Good. Now walk, or we're going to be late."

He falls into step beside her once more, trusting her to keep an eye on the path ahead of them while he studies her. There's something else going on, he knows, something more than an impulsive lunch in Central Park.

Wait…

"Are you pregnant?" he blurts, the words leaving his mouth before he has the chance to censor them.

This time she's the one who pulls to an abrupt stop. "What?" She blinks.

Rick eyes her. Is she making sure she'd heard him correctly, or buying time? "Is this… doing something special and out of the ordinary – is this your way of telling me you're pregnant?"

Her face blanks for just a split section before laughter spills from her lips. Raucous laughter. Laughter that rocks her body so hard, she doubles over, holding up a hand when he makes an attempt to help her up.

"I'll take that as a no," he drawls, lifting an eyebrow.

Finally, Beckett manages to suck in a deep breath, forcing herself upright.

"No, Castle. There will be no pregnancy announcements today. Why?" she asks, hooking her arm through his to get them moving again. "You want me to do it that way? Shout it to you in front of a restaurant full of people?"

"Please, Kate, I think you know me better than that."

"Ah, a skywriter, then," she teases, bumping his hip with hers. "Very subtle. Very you."

That pulls a quiet laugh from his lips. "Oh, I was thinking an announcement on the ticker in Times Square."

Kate purses her lips, hiding her laughter.

"Well, I'll see what I can do when the time comes."

His heart flutters against his ribs at the promise. It's not even a question of if; no, it's _when_. When this incredible woman will tell him she's ready to grow with his child, to endure the aches and pains and frustrations for the joy of starting a family – expanding the family they're already building – with him.

Clearing his throat, Rick manages to catch himself before he gets truly misty-eyed. Kate lifts her head, her entire being tender and soft. She knows anyway.

There are times when she's guarded, when she can be hard and unyielding, but there's more to her than that, and he's so damn fortunate to be the one she allows to see past her walls.

"Come on," she husks, touching her mouth to his. "Time for lunch."

He nods, allowing her to pull him along.

As soon as he sees the lake he knows where they're eating, and his enthusiasm for her choice only makes her smile widen.

"We can rent a boat after, if you want. The boys know I'll be out of my office for the rest of the day, so there's no reason we can't play at little bit."

"That sounds great."

Like he would ever turn down the opportunity to spend more time with his fiancée.

"Good. And we can come back with Alexis another time if you think she'll like it."

"Are you kidding? She'll love it. She'll want to get two so the three of us can race. Girls against boy, of course."

Though she tries to play it cool, it's no secret that Alexis is a little bit in awe of Kate Beckett; if there's a chance for the two of them to be on the same side of a competition, his daughter jumps on it.

Kate beams, pressing her face into his shoulder, allowing him to feel how pleased she is by his confirmation. "Okay, done. Prepare your concession speech now."

"You mean you're preparing yours," he retorts, feeling her laughter through his shirt.

"Sure, Rick. Keep telling yourself that."

His next comeback is lost when he sees her attention shift to the restaurant entrance. Or, more specifically, the older gentleman standing by the door, scanning the horizon.

Kate's hand lifts in a wave, stopping the man's search. Rick watches a smile spread across his face, somehow nervous and eager at the same time, and it would stop him in his tracks if not for the woman at his side tugging him along.

He knows that grin.

"Katie," the man murmurs once they're close, holding out his arms.

Kate slips her hand out of the crook of Rick's elbow, stepping into the circle of the man's arms without hesitation. They seem to sink together, eyes falling shut as they draw comfort from the embrace.

"Hi Dad," she greets finally, confirming exactly what he'd known. "Thanks for meeting us for lunch."

The stranger – no, not a stranger, Kate's father – smiles, cupping his daughter's shoulders. "Of course. I'm glad you called."

Kate's lips curl higher. "Me too. How has the… has the press finally left you alone?"

The first two months after Bracken's arrest had been brutal. Every news anchor and investigative reporter on the east coast had wanted the scoop from Johanna Beckett's family. The fervor had only intensified when it became public knowledge that Rick's involvement had been at Kate's behest.

Jim Beckett nods, looking relaxed in spite of the touchy subject.

"Haven't seen a reporter in weeks. What about you?"

Kate exhales, squeezing him once more. "That's good. We're still seeing a few here and there, but they keep their distance for the most part."

Without fresh information coming from the FBI, the news cycle has largely moved on from Bracken's crimes. Instead, the media's focus lately has been on the – as the Ledger has dubbed it – "unlikely romance" between the acclaimed writer and the mob boss with the tragic backstory and a heart of gold. The questions range from almost sweet to invasive – when did they start dating, had they known each other prior to looking into Bracken, did Beckett seduce him to get him to investigate, is Kate over the moon about being the inspiration for Castle's next novel, are things getting serious between them – it's a crapshoot what they'll get. Kate can't stand it.

Personally, he can't wait to see the looks on their faces when he and Kate announce their engagement. Their engagmen–

Shit. He asked her to marry him and he hasn't even met her father.

He looks up, startled, only to find Kate offering him a lopsided, knowing grin. Oh, she figured it out before he did and set all of this up. This is her surprise.

"Rick, this is my dad, Jim. Dad, this is Rick Castle," she pauses, bouncing on her toes in anticipation, "my fiancé."

To his credit, Jim takes the announcement in stride, offering nothing more than an exhale and a look of quiet surprise at the news. He doesn't miss a beat, either, extending his hand to shake Rick's, the gesture friendly and simple.

Castle likes him already.

"It's nice to meet you, Rick."

"You too, sir."

"Jim."

"Jim," he echoes, pumping the man's hand once more. "I'm sorry we haven't met sooner."

"I think you can be forgiven this time, given the circumstances. You've had a busy few months. In more ways than one."

Kate's arm loops through Rick's once he takes his hand back, her cheek falling to his shoulder. He can't help but turn to drop a kiss against her hair, proud to be the one who gets to be close to her even in front of her father.

"Rick proposed last week," she explains, flexing her fingers against his bicep, allowing the sunlight to dance off of her engagement ring. "So I figured I should let you two meet sometime before the wedding."

Jim chuckles, shaking his head in exasperated affection. "How thoughtful of you, Katie."

Her lips turn up. "Yeah, well, I try. And in his defense, he did ask to meet you months ago, but it wasn't the right time. Just don't think this gives you carte blanche to tell all the embarrassing stories to get back at me."

Rick bobs a little bit at the prospect, earning a grin from the elder Beckett and an eye roll from his fiancée.

The light in her eyes gives her away, though. She loves it. And she trusts him with her father, her family, her heart.

"How 'bout a compromise," he starts, following both Becketts into the restaurant, trusting that his future wife is listening even though she has her back to him. "Instead of _all_ the embarrassing stories, we start with just a few."

Kate laughs, reaching back for his hand to draw him near once more. "One story."

"Five stories," he counters, crowding against her back, palming her hip to keep his balance.

"Three stories," she says, glancing over her shoulder at him, letting her eyes linger on his lips in a way that's practically criminal with her father standing _right_ there. "Take it or leave it."

Rick grins, giving her a nod. "Deal."

After all, an offer like that is impossible to refuse.

* * *

 _A/N: And that's where this leg of their journey comes to a close. Final word count: 30,121. I cannot say thank you enough to you all. Your enthusiasm, your support, your joy and your glee has filled me up and kept me going through some exhausting, trying weeks, and I'm so grateful to you all. Thank you to Lindsey, Ally, Callie, Rachel, and Valen for being enablers, for being the ones to say "WRITE IT," when this idea somehow turned from a joke into a true prompt, and _for encouraging me to continue and push through my doubts when I felt like this would never work. I heart you guys. <3__


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